Reflections

[totsakanth]

Reflections.

My day is ended, work is done And wearied I return to rest
And passing her studio door, I glance within
She sits, engrossed, humming an ancient tune of Gods and mortals
And calls into being life from her canvas with deft touches of her brushes.
Those hands - I remember another time and place -
The heavy pistol slamming back into those delicate hands on 'five rounds rapid'
But that was another time and another place.
Not now.
For now my wife sits working, singing a song of two millennia past
And I stand watching, wondering why of all men she chose me.
I am not of her race or her religion or her nationality
Yet she chose me
For many years I have been the most fortunate of men
She looks up and smiles
I am content

Notes:

I don't normally write like this. It's too unstructured and that makes my teeth hurt.
I made a sort of deal with myself that I'd just write down the first things that came into my head when I got back today.
So I did.
You've just read it.

[heinzs]

Sometimes just writing what comes to mind reflects a mood or the muse moreso than concentrated effort. You can always work it if you wish to later, but give the "first glance" a chance too.