Open eyes don't always come with an open mind. Dull vision is due to the glazed look caused by the cloudiness that overcomes. Colors are bleak, the world isn't what it used to be. Every face seen is accompanied with turned down eyebrows as they stare back. Is it real? So hard to distinguish the difference anymore. Flashbacks force their way back, filled with brief images of what it used to be. Are they memories or myths created only to keep around the overwhelming sense of failure that never subsides? Change is just around the corner. Every step taken is followed by another stumble backwards. Don't turn around. The fog slowly dissipates and colors seem brighter, but only slightly. Vividness shouldn't be so hard to obtain, isn't it missed? Another unsure step after another. Frustrations seeps through. Reach out a shaky hand, someone is sure to take it. Once fingers are laced, then will the process begin to reverse. A slight twinge of upturned lips, what a familiar feeling. Blink hard, cry out the fog that has taken over. Sunshine radiates from above, and the faces from before are replaced with kind eyes and a gentle smile. Fact or fiction, happiness never felt so good.
❤
this prose was written by my
granddaughter.
her
g ~ma
is
proud of her,
and
proud
for her.
i told her to follow the writing
path,
it would treat
her
well.
❤
