I am thinking of twilight when the dreamscape faded and shadows formed just before the day began and night faded in wisps of steam. And how long ago did I write those words. I am not that young girl of insecurity and doubt.

It is a different type of wanderlust that consumes in shaking disarray while soul steady the body looks about restless. It no longer seems to matter why, only that it is past and I move on, spine straight and head high, tears streaming now and then for the hope I dashed.