Like We Decided To Do

pic

Let’s
place
the sheets
in
this order,
and
the table
over there,
and yes,
the bed
should face West
since
the
sun darts
and fancies
herself
best
in her own
light. You know,
like
we decided
to
do.

Let’s
also pull the curtains
a slight
left, allowing
current
to
flow in
between
the
world
outside and our
world
inside. Let’s place
the
dishes
in your order,
and
I’ll start
up
the oven
just to tie
everything
together
the
way you like
it.
You know, just
the
way we
decided
to do.

Finally,
let’s play
a game
where I
let you win,
and then
without
too much
thought,
you’ll kiss
me
and I’ll pretend
we
get
to
start this
all
over again.

You know,
like
we decided to
do.

M.C. Davis

Left And Right

pic

Whenever I’m in the mood for writing, I think constantly about the flow of traffic between one sentence to the next. Most times, I’m engaged entirely on the ability to let my words be themselves; forgetting the grammar bug and allowing enough room for a slight breeze to tangle in between the adjectives that often, and without too much trouble, drag themselves into the spotlight full of flare and glamor.

Every once in a while, I’ll close my eyes and fantasize about the beginning urge to write.  This sensation gives me the green light to start the first letter of a sentence, or the last word in a poem. This is the romance of being a writer of any kind. Writers get the chance to explore the impact statement, and the characters that fall deep in between the wedges of thought. Writers get the chance to draw with multiple colors, and layer them with black and white overtones. Writers, for the same reason we exist, get the chance to break even without even spending a dime.

So, whenever I’m in the mood for writing, I stop and let nature take her course. She is, after all, responsible for dotting all those i’s and crossing all those t’s when necessary.

M.C. Davis