The Significant Other

Through the frosted panes I survey the horizon, awaiting her arrival.

My head bowed, my fingers tap, hesitantly.

Words form on my laptop screen, only to be chased by the backspace key.

I glance up.

An arrowhead of Canadian geese pierces the eastern sky.

Our quiet affair had begun during the pandemic, during a time of neediness, discontent, despair.

She gifted me with what had been missing in my prolonged dormancy.

And now that I recognize her influence, I became greedy, stealing moments alone with her.

In a blink, she will be front and center.

While the rest of the world is silent, slumbering, I am giddy, juggling the abounding opportunities dawning.

She is an artist too. No photograph could capture the truth of her beauty or the creative palette she blends.

Her charisma is a catalyst that triggers my imagination,

it fuels the energy,

causing my fingers to race across the keyboard.

My heart races too.

Ideas trip, recover, cavort.

Steadfastly the blank screen transforms.

In the quiet solitude of the blue hour, she whispers follow your passion.

Authors note: I am rarely without a pen, spiral notebook, and a cup of coffee. As a morning person, I love to slip out of bed in the predawn hours and sketch out ideas and watch the sunrise. As exemplified in this short poem, the sun is often a subject of my musings. I love watching the world awaken, the colors that unfold, and wondering what adventures the day will bring.