As I type this, it's 00:40am and insomnia has won again. I originally intended to scrawl a set of words about the flattering properties of skater dresses or spell out the lengthening effect nude shoes had on elongating your legs.
Letters were spilling onto the page into a scrambled mess and none of it made any sense at all. I let out a deep breath, emptied my mind and instead, decided to type out the train of thoughts itching for the permission to run wild. They constantly knocked into each other prompting a repetitive cycle of deleting and retyping before perseverance lined them up into something (hopefully) a little more coherent. Please forgive me if it's a jumble of nonsense littered with grammatical errors, I haven't written 'creatively' since my high school days, or arguably, my assignments at university for my English & Creative Writing course!
I had forgotten how therapeutic it is to be given full rein to write with an orchestra of letters at your fingertips.
flowers are worth a thousand words:
a bride throws a flurry of peonies into a crowd of eager arms;
a wild ribbon pirouettes and spins a tale of two lovers' meet
at a sunflower field with a spring of adventure in their steps.
they journey together composing a story to tell
their future offspring over a roaring fire:
"we were children picking dandelions with a taunt and a dare,
school friends wrapped in a tumbling chain of daisies,
I was a boy holding a loosely wrapped bunch of wild flowers
picked from the local forest with a string of mumbles and awkward limbs.
It progressed with a mixed assortment of blossoming buds,
bouquets that spoke more than my stammers ever could.
On the evening of a midsummer night, I bowed on one knee and
presented her with a single rose - a promise, a vow and an oath's embrace,
as petals conjoined to form a garland of three."
[sunflower dress: missguided* - nude patent heels: m&s - pink bow crossover bag: primark]