In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Soon Day

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A potpourri day of flying bits propelled by a plump sleep’s spell

like a witches incantation, eye of newt mixed with chicken broth,

a bought book long-sought no right-minded would buy on a no frills schedule–

and budget,

a leisurely dine on organic inspiration packaged in creativity’s cellophane–

a culinary conversion,

the bonding built on a daughter’s refined gustatory and intellectual tastes–

a car-ride, stool-side, angular conversation,

a juggle of pockets: dream, work, Rx, plan, execution, to-do, and vitamin D.

Promise pokes a gut-tickle brain as runners aglow recounting prayers of pause rush by. 

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