Welcome to day 20 of this daily Halloween themed challenge.
31 days, 31 topics. Share a photo, drawing, story, poem, quote, etc. every day of October. Each day there will be a new topic, but if you prefer to stray from the topics, as long as your post is Halloween oriented, it counts!
Foggy Misty morn over Central Park in the ball field
Cloud Mists ~ For Lucy
Mists Cloud your face yet never your smile, laughter, your cheerfulness, your precious spirit. Life moves on but there will always be an empty space where you once stood. You were a sweet and gentle soul. All the world is passing by and I want to shout, Stop! Wait a minute! Don’t you know a melody has ceased playing? A familiar song is now silent? Here I remain stoic yet crying inside wishing I could reach through this veil of tears and take your hand once again.
Misty Day
Remembrance
Though we be in the Autumn of our lives we still beam the Girlish Dreams of Youth. When the cord is cut mid-stream will our dreams be cast into the raging seas…..ashes scattered to the prevailing winds blanketing the Earth like so many strips of confetti after the parade has ended?
Are our dreams lost forever or merely transferred to future generations. When death stills earthly dreams do they take wings and fly towards the Heavens. Do our Ancestors dream of those yet to join them? Are we the living dreaming Lineages cut short who seek a bloodline vessel?
Girlish dreams beckon faded broken bodies. Minds kindled by the flames of youth —- yet the structure could not hold. BOOM!! And ever so slowly and softly one million photographs gently wafted to earth to be gathered by the Memory Gleaners and placed in the gallery of Lost Souls.
Do Heavenly dwellers have earthly memories? Can Memories transpose the veil? And we, if we be close enough or strong enough then death will hold no obstacle. Essence travels freely no longer bound by fleshly concerns.
His touch is Midnight seeping into my pores, saturating my veins and arteries, enveloping my very being. New galaxies are born when I am in his arms.
His voice is Throbbing Black Strap Molasses, Obsidian Opal honey dripped scented pleasure and I am a sponge absorbing every drop of honey syrup anointing. His pulsations become part of my being and we are in rhythmic unison.
Images of him undulate over a winding path from brain to heart. Match ignites flame causing trails of hot candle wax to slip into my peaks and valleys. We are a perfect coupling Symbiosis. We dissolve into the misty morning dawn, daybreak quenched fires, smoldering dreamily fantasy future liaisons.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 