Portrait of a Writer

      The lonely figure sat at the keyboard watching as the words flowed from her mind through her fingers to appear on the screen.  Dressed in her favorite pajamas and oversized robe, a cup of coffee sat off to one side now cold as the figure was so engrossed in what she was doing.  A cigarette dangled from her mouth with an ash about to drop and yet she was still unaware.

       The words flowed quickly as her fingers moved smoothly and with extreme speed along the keyboard to record each word the  muse in her mind was sending.

          With no interruptions, the muse actively jumped and danced and shouted out the words to the mind as the writer continued to type them as quickly as they descended upon her.  The story took on a life of its own with no control from the writer.  

          The muse was in control pulling memories from the past to interweave into the fiction being written.  The inspiration from visions, from dreams and real life transformed into a story pulling the writer into the center of its universe and making her feel the pain or the love or even the hate inspired by the characters who transformed mysteriously from thin air.

       For hours on end, the writer tells the story until the muse has lost its way, leaving the writer to sit and stare at the screen before her trying to add to what the muse has given her and yet the words seem to fail.

      Slowly the writer stands up, looking at the cold coffee and the stub of the cigarette.  Time for a break before the muse returns to send the words to be written.

Barbara Foster
Copyright (c) 2015

SPRINGTIME

Sunshine brings warmth and clear star filled skies bring the night chill.

Green mist hovers between ground and sky slowly turning

  the barren limbs of trees into a new beginning of full green

  leaves.

Yellow Daffodils wave gently in the breeze as if to say

  Good bye Winter, Hello Spring.

Hyacinths stand proudly in their spring colors of pink, blue, 

  purple and white.

Green grass covers the brown of winter dotted with dandelions

  and purple sage.

Robins dance along the grass gaily singing their song of Spring, while

  Bluebirds soar through the trees singing their songs of praise.

Oh, how I love the spring with its new life and promise,

  

It was five years ago today that you left this earthly abode to set your soul free.  The pain you suffered is gone but the void you left will never be forgotten.

You are remembered each and every day.  Sometimes it is a word or maybe a song but often it is just that feeling that you are missing.  The grief remains even though the tears aren't as often but when they fall, they fall silently as I sit alone wondering why you were taken so soon and so quickly from my loving arms.

I long to hear your voice or to feel your touch and when I look at the pictures they are just memories now.    We used to talk that our lives had crossed since our youth and that it was meant to be that we would be soul mates.  We had many years together and now a part of me is gone.  I look up to the heavens and search for a star.  We used to say our stars were up there close together but now I only see one.  I keep searching hoping to see a glimmer next to a bright star as a sign that you are there waiting for me to join you so we can shine brightly in the night sky to show everyone we are together again.

One day there will be two stars but for now I only look for one that glitters and winks and lets me know that you are there watching over me and our family.   Until that time I can only hold on to the memories and try to smile through my tears as I look out the window hoping to see you coming to me or saying something knowing you are not here to hear me.  The pain in my heart will never go away and can only be mended when we are together again.

In loving memory of my soul mate, Harold.