A Split Apart

My Muse

I gazed at the photograph of her and knew Curt her husband, took it. He likes to capture her at moments when she is most herself. I remarked that she was beauty. Right there, in the simple shot of her glowing and thoughtful face.

Blue eyed.

Blonde haired.

Serene, yet the wheels are turning.

She flits from one thing to another.

Her heart is large.

Her vocabulary stellar.

She is mighty with the written word.

The spoken word.

She is an artist.

Everything she sees, she sees potential in.

She found beauty in me. In my heart.

We didn’t speak to each other for 30 years.

Audibly anyway.

Our words made us friends, sisters, split aparts.

Our souls intertwined.

She gave me confidence.

She gave me strength by loving me.

Her photos inspire me to write.

She inspires me.

We will love each other.

Till one of us expires.

Even then, when we are on that other vibration.

We will watch over one another.

The first photo prompt I ever wrote a story for was hers. I titled it West Virginia in the Summer Time. It wasn’t viewed by many bloggers. But it was one of my favorite stories. Fiction. Something I was new at writing. The journal entries were getting old. I needed something more. Tracy provided that. She still does. Words flow through me whenever I peruse her photo albums.

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