Halloweenie

Wondering what might happen is useless, she knows there’s much more to it than love.
And yet – her mind goes there often.
This is it. These are the days in which she lives.
These are the choices she has and the choices she’s made.
What she loves and who she loves is only a reflection of that.
The abrupt nature of life is too unreliable for anything else.
And yet – there is still discovery.
There are still days filled with blue and falling leaves.
Stillness in the transition of times.
Still today, at least.
Long nights and tired eyes await her, and she knows it.
She does not fear what she knows but she hates it all the same.
Perhaps she fears what she does not know.
This year, that one, it’s all the same.. It’s all a construct.
It’s all just you or her or I wanting things and moving through time. Or with it.
The one thing that truly defines her is the one thing that does not change.
Or maybe it’s change itself.
And every day is hers, and yours, and ours. The blue ones and the misty ones.
The hours spent wondering where the hours went.
Singing our love and slowly dying the whole time.