The highlighted text calls again from fluttering pages. I can’t be caught on the wrong foot, while talking to a person I’ve admired for decades.
fluttering pages call
steps trace imagined voices,
doorways turn to truth
My favourite author has moved to a place closer to mine. It feels strange, as mentally, I’ve always felt closer than that. I’ve imagined conversations where I felt she was writing about something I’ve lived through.
closer than I thought
the author I’ve admired
writes my awkward silence
What is that common thread we share? Will we connect in the same way – face-to-face in real life?
appointment confirmed
from my doorstep to her door,
threads of fate entwine
