She'll find a place for them soon
Somewhere they can call home
A place of their own that she can visit
on long nights
They fill so much of her time,
The words they hold,
hold no special meaning
for anyone other than herself.
But isn't that how it's supposed to be?
They must have thought her mad
at the stationery store
to pick this odd assortment
of pages to be filled
all with purple ink.
Individuality had always been a priority.
And so it should be with books
And she was nothing, if not reasonable.
She never got around to "showcasing"
the mantle above the fireplace.
Showcasing being such a silly word to her.
She wondered if it would ever find its way into her writings,
Trash rescues are the best finds of all.
And so with ritual and humility,
she tenderly set the books
between mismatched bookends
from Mrs Graingers trash can.
cradling mismatched books
that held the words that meant nothing
to anyone but her.
On The Stoop
She sat quietly on the steps contemplating her smallness
though she didn't quite know why.
"I should get to it" she muttered to herself,
slightly annoyed with her habit of speaking aloud,
seemingly to no one.
But the night was still and perfect for her.
Warm summer breezes washed over her
like a lovers caress...
tentative and gentle.
She often gave in to her tactile nature.
It was a simple enough thing to do
if one only paid attention to it.
Almost unaware, she ran her hand through her tumble of hair...
this simple gesture calming her.
From deep within and from all around her, she heard...
"It takes time for oranges to ripen, you know.
It's not something one should try to hurry along
as though there were some dire need of it."
"You again." she half gasped
"Am I never to be rid of your silliness?"
Almost inaudibly came the musing..
"What's silly is an orange without pits, ya know."