An oceanic conglomeration

Of things changing

And ever changing.

A fever,

A sickness,

Depression.

It ails

And heartache that triumphs.

Regenerates silk,

Spilt soil fertilizes the garden.

Golden tendrils sneak into the atmosphere,

Curling and looping,

Connecting,

Like wires on a telephone line to your call five hundred miles away.

To your call,

To your call…

To your call.

400 miles away.

300,

1.5 miles away.

From home,

From my living room,

From stepping,

From skipping,

From dancing,

My way to you.

I don’t know why.

I don’t know how.

But something,

Something sparked.

Firelight

Ignited by sunset,

Embroidered with sets

Sets of flowers.

Sets of gold.

Sets of feelings.

Wrapped in a

pretty pink box

With a bow.

You’ve regained yourself.

You are yourself once again.

You.