We could see what we wanted, almost taste it on our tongues. The smell of our promise with its head blown off. We’d never get there, our dreams were lodged in clouds. We stumbled to a halt to decide. Going up or going down? Together or parting our ways?
Contemplating our vision, we agreed it was beautiful. Perhaps beyond telling. It was then that it dawned: if we can’t say it to each other, we’ll never make it real.
N Filbert 2012
Friday Fictioneers, June 1, 2012