The Writer

A bird took of from the ground, it was an amazing sight. She looked beautiful as her wings waved goodbye and vanished into the dark. Planes flew in and out of my ears circling my brain. Their engines spat out rocket fuel. A Concorde broke the sound barrier just of my ear and blasted off into the sunset. The echo’s shook me out into the real world. I lay in my bed, starring out my window. It was a beautiful morning and the sun was shining down on me. I felt lucky seeing it all unfold itself, right in front of my eyes. Little electric particles sparkling in the air of this frost bitten November morning. I lay there dreaming.

I climbed up to the roof. I spent hours there, watching the city morph into the night. It was one of those places I felt at peace. I was always alone when I went there, didn’t feel the need to talk to anyone. I couldn’t see the stars either. Sometimes the city could be too claustrophobic, too many straight lines and far too many regulations. A man needed a place of refuge and for now, this was it. I often dreamed about her there, the woman of my dreams. It was hard to describe what she looked like, but I knew I would get lost in the depths of her wild, beautiful eyes.