Quiet Stir...

I feel quiet

Quite soft

Bending with the breeze

I remember riding on the back of his motorcycle

Paris, 4am,

Watching myself think-

This is happening to me

Now

Filled with silent energy

I lay stirring inside

The sun offers to me

Dreams I expect to find 

I don't need words

Only sometimes-

Just to know that my suspicion is real

That you are listening to my feel

Disconnected, drifted, and lifted

I listen to the stories

Birthing daydreams and the in between's

Sun spots and shadows paint me over

Lift my step and fill me with stride

This beauty is never hard to find