Posted: Jun 21, 08 10:37pm

flash event:

Paper, sticks and string

How it dreamed. The day it would leave the cramped quarters and lift. Breathe of wind pressing up toward the sky, higher and higher. But now it just rested patiently, quietly for its moment again. Shifting slightly where it laid with the rubber slapping against the road and the heaving motion of metal over the bumps.

I drove the car reminiscing of the day we first met. I was walking by and in the window it peered at me. Not this one, but one just like it. It had colors of green purple red and yellow. The sun caught just the tip of one ornate corner in the fabric-like contours of its shape. It was still and lifeless. It had no spirit yet, but soon it would. It would know the view from skyscrapers and sandy shores. It would feel the piercing touch against its sleek fine edges, pricked and scarred by fingerlike branches of trees; the tug upon the long cords that followed to set it free once again. To return once more to the clouds and blue of sky swirling and shifting; bobbing and lifting.

I looked back as its color seemed dark without the sunlight’s highlights upon it. A glance of reassurance, as if to say: “soon, you will soar like birds of prey with the hand of wind to hold you once again. “