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My life glides by with such lightning speed that I scarce can mark the days. Time is moving beyond my mind's ability to remember the reasons why I set out on this journey in the beginning. As I look back over the moments, the days and years, I wish upon a memory. The stars are bounteous in the sky but they don't hold what I need to find. My wishes are in a time capsule that exists in some etherical place beyond time. So I reach out to capture a glimpse of my dreams to become a creative freelance writer. In that space of memories, my name is printed boldly on the books I always intended to write.
Daydreams carry me back to years so far away yet just within my reach. I close my eyes and reminisce about when life was like a romantic poem. Every thought and every dream had a magical happy ending. Nothing was impossible then if only I dared to dream it. Oh, how I wish upon a memory that I could turn back the years and live those happy dreams once again. A smile gingerly crosses my lips as I fondly think of those times where I sat in a meadow or a forest feeling carefree. My tablet and pen were always ready and my fresh mind was always willing to scribe the wondrous thoughts that happened along. I gazed for hours at the flowers, the sky, the birds, the trees and contemplated rhymes as I listened to the buzzing bees. It was all so perfect, so beautiful, so easy then.
When I go back to those precious times, I reach for those stars in my eyes again and step into the brightness of that time. Visions come back to me now as I remember my favorite suspense short story and how I pondered its ending. I wrote copious notes and alternative scenes. The possibilities for the story were so diverse that I could have written a dozen stories from one creative idea.
Daydreams carry me back to years so far away yet just within my reach. I close my eyes and reminisce about when life was like a romantic poem. Every thought and every dream had a magical happy ending. Nothing was impossible then if only I dared to dream it. Oh, how I wish upon a memory that I could turn back the years and live those happy dreams once again. A smile gingerly crosses my lips as I fondly think of those times where I sat in a meadow or a forest feeling carefree. My tablet and pen were always ready and my fresh mind was always willing to scribe the wondrous thoughts that happened along. I gazed for hours at the flowers, the sky, the birds, the trees and contemplated rhymes as I listened to the buzzing bees. It was all so perfect, so beautiful, so easy then.
When I go back to those precious times, I reach for those stars in my eyes again and step into the brightness of that time. Visions come back to me now as I remember my favorite suspense short story and how I pondered its ending. I wrote copious notes and alternative scenes. The possibilities for the story were so diverse that I could have written a dozen stories from one creative idea.
