WRITING: Far Away in The Mind

Floating blossom in Salwar Kameez of plum gossamer, dancing on the breeze that blows off deserts, over seas and foreign lands. Tinkling bracelets like bells ringing faraway in time, delicate and divine amid the tolling sounds of a society who no longer knows to stop and listen. Half here, half there and half again flying in between the netherworld of old and new and yet the halves will always join to form a perfect whole. Daughter of the flower but a bud awakened in a world of heat and sparkling sands, but blooms within its reaching beams of light to live in white jeaned innocence external while internally the heart is far away and not transplanted. And once upon a time and even now the sloe-eyes glow against white gossamer, and she dances like the blossom of her youth, and the bindi, like a stained glass window, lights the way.