A Letter to an Old Soul

Ok, I wrote a similar note a few blogs back: A Letter to a Young Soul.

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Here's another one, still about the dirty word we all love to hate. The FORCE we try to fight, avoid and dismiss as too overrated, overused, abused, weaponized with high grade plutonium that will scare Israel into World War 3: love, luv, lurv, my dripping, sappy heart. Ick.

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But beyond all the poetry of that magical fantasy that everyone hopes for: To love and be loved in return---cue Moulin Rouge theme---I have not really met anybody who is immune to this kind of sea sickness, me included.

Of Roller Coasters & Carousels

Remind me again
about the sensation of rising, .......
climbing, .......
waiting, .......
fearing, .......
and being at the peak.

Then, pausing.

Then 
falling

sudden 

fast 

unthinking 

just 
feeling

gravity 
tickling 
the 
steel 
rails 
sharp
gut 
itching
with
drifting 
need
a 
scream
spine 
aching 
for 
the 
thrust.


Gasping.


Yes, roller coasters give one a kick of life.
But carousels aren't half as bad either.
They rightly come after,
like a slower, easy landing after a climax,

off the peak, safe and cuddled

by the warm horse saddle.

3. Smile

(To the boy who craved for chocolate, but got an afternoon delight ;-)

I see him watching the pudding on my plate.

I approach.

I ask if he wanted to share.

He smiles and nods a little shyness into the air. 


He gestures to the seat.

I sit, at ease.

I hook a swirl of icing with my index. 


Then dip my tongue on the morsel. 


I offer the same wet morsel.

He smiles a different smile.