words are for stories

I am sorry for not following your footprints
you know how we want to blaze our own trails
I’m more like the one who hides in the wild brambles along someone else’s path
stopping to pick the gathering moss from my toes
hoping my feet will stain a lovely shade of flowerless green
so I won’t need to buy socks
(too often my happy spirit falls out my sock holes)
damn, I don’t darn well
I am sorry for not visiting your fine table at tea time
sipping is a lost art and I become dumbstruck at the sight of delicate porcelain tuele
I can cower behind a steaming Starbuck’s Venti
latte, latte, latte
blow the foam
watch me smile all day pretending I’m a writer
enumerating every reason why my work isn’t on one shelf
not one, that’s why I dunk three lattes
and seek out your footprints while no one is watching
still, there is my spirit guide
she drinks naught
eats less than sips
her curved feet are bare and beautiful
her wings are tucked around her disheveled robes
she is proud of her life
passion burns hot in her breast
the embodiment of joy in simple musing
she pulls me away from the wild things that grow on another’s path
she kisses my cheek, returns my black socks patched with green threads
then she tosses me back onto the road where I started out
allowing me no words for excuses
“words,” she whispers in her gorgeous velvet-throwback voice
are for stories
spirit-guide-weditsspirit guide sketched this past weekend while at a boisterous high school wrestling tournament

10 thoughts on “words are for stories

  1. Beautiful work AnnMarie! Can’t wait for the book. You have brought me a lot of joy and happiness to me tonight. I have the greatest friend. Christmas coming very early this year! woo hoo! AnnMarie’s book I can die a happy man now! AnnMarie is kind, beautiful, cool and my favorite person in the world!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. AM, so glad to see that you’re sketching again–yes, so good, and such a strong-looking, together woman. I like it very much! I can always imagine you in a sweaty, dusty hot gym hunched over her sketch pad. The only artist in the room.

    As for the words here, they’re naturally poetically resonant and lovely. But I would love to talk this one over; there seems much depth of thought here; too much to try to write about. I love this, but I’d love to know more, know what’s driving these words. When we next talk perhaps? A fascinating read.


    Liked by 1 person

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