Tales of Thought Cloud

[andrea1018]

Not for the faint of heart. For the fourm authors to post their musings.

Have fun.

[andrea1018]

I will begin. It is a bit long but worth it.

Muse's morning coffee

Good morning. I woke this morn to find myself well rested and somehow inspired. The sun shone a hue brighter, the wind smelled a touch sweeter, and the coffee at my lips tasted one iota richer. I think back on the strange the series of events that have cumulated to give me such a blissful morning. I believe that it would be imperfect, or even criminal not to scribble a series of ramblings describing this odd feeling that has settled itself in my state of conscious.

Waking the way I did is almost that out of a fairytale. One of those sweet romances that at the end of the battle you find the heroine in a palace donned in royal robes; having the paupers filth scrubbed cleanly away from her body. All I could feel was a small tickle on my shoulder at first. As my surroundings came into focus I realized that it was not a feather of some majestic bird that brought me from my slumber, but the fair hair of a small boy.

There I found him snuggled at my side, his big blue eyes looking up at me. His face could not be better etched by Da Vinci, pure and perfect was this countenance before me. As I gazed in almost non belief at this beautiful creature beside me my imaginations began to fade. First the visions that danced through my mind all night, then slowly, the sounds around me began to chase out the melody of my dream and I heard the television in the living room ranting about last nights Monday Night Football game. I was at home in bed.

“Wake up Mommy, it is time for you to wake up.” said the angel at my side.
“I am awake bubba, just give me a moment.”

I started to stretch, deeply. Feeling my very essence grow with each release of my arms and legs. I felt the cool sheets beneath me, the warm comforter above. I was in a cocoon of heaven. What could make me want to get out from under this awesome embrace? What could snatch me away from this utopia of blissful dreaming? Just then the small angel began to bounce beside me. As carefree and playful as he was; he was also mindful not to fall on my swelling abdomen.
“Mommy is the baby awake?” asked the curious imp beside me.
“I think so pumpkin,” I answered with a laugh escaping my lips “how could she sleep with her big brother bouncing like this?”
With a smile and a hint of understanding in his eyes the wood sprite jumped down from the bed and bounded into the living room.
“Daddy! Mommy is awake.” the elfish boy announced my entrance like I was royalty.

As I stepped into the living room I was greeted by the same blue eyes I woke to. True, they were older and the look that radiated from them was glinted with a hint of power and desire, not the same innocence of the small one. But from this face poured the same love that I mirrored, a small skip of my heart broke my trance as this large king smiled at me.

“Morning.” a small greeting compared to the tiny but enthusiastic wake up call I was given by my very own sprite. But the sound resonated in my heart; speaking the words that needed no utterance. As I passed my monarch on the way to the bathroom, my hand grazed his shoulder. In that moment years of passion flashed behind my eyes.

I smiled as I kept walking remembering our last rendezvous; had it been twenty four hours since I last felt his mouth on mine? His hands on my body beckoning me to places only thought of in the most private settings. I would have to remedy that before the end of this day I decided. After finger combing my hair and splashing cool water on my face I was certain that this day would be magic.

Taking my place beside him on the couch was customary, and I looked over and smiled again. Letting him know that morning discussions could commence; I was awake and lucid I was available for comments at this time.
“I went shopping this morning.” the conquering sovereign lord began.
“Did you?” I quipped, knowing that he couldn't wait to show me the bounty he brought home to his kingdom.
“Yes I did” he said his blue eyes shining with pride, “come see.”

Re-entering the kitchen I noticed what I had missed during my previous trip on my way to the bathroom. Grocery bags scattered the stove top, there were two litters of caffeine free soda above on top of the fridge and a small box hidden from my view.

“I bought pop and cereal. Some beef tips for dinner; but I think you may have to cut them up because they are really big honey.” He started to ramble, but all I could notice is how his eyes sparkled in the morning sun that shone through our window. I was almost lost in this phenomenon until he continued with even more excitement as he got to the climax of his shopping list.
“Oh! I also got a treat for desert. Close your eyes.”

I did as told playing along with his game. “OK, open them.”

Whatever it is that I saw resembled a mashed up lopsided confection. It looked like it had been through the war. “Uh..”
“It's a yellow cake with chocolate icing. I know it looks really banged up,” he began to explain, a look of disappointment clouding those perfect eyes. “I put it in the trunk and I guess it got tossed around a little. But hey I bet it still tastes the same.” he smiled.
I chucked a little and put my hands around his neck. “It looks delicious baby. Thank you.”
Those words seemed to perk him up as he removed my arms from around him. “Well it is time for me to go to bed.” a flash of mischief flashed across his face; “tuck me in?”

Most of you would read this, thinking it was quiet mundane. Just the simple morning of a simple girl. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing extraordinary. But I didn't write it for you. I wrote it for that one person who I know will understand the meaning behind these words. Feel the same magic as I did this morning. The same blessed feeling that surrounds me now. So now I close this for you my friend. This detailed description of my morning routine that is everything but ordinary, and with it a prayer that I hope it finds you well. For the rest of you I pray that you begin to wake up to the magic all around that you call home, and begin to see it for what it really is. The grand adventure of life.

This is dedicated to my muse, my family; and the one who shares the same writers heart that I do.

[andrea1018]

I wrote this last year. Enjoy

Black Velvet Sofa



I remember the couch at my great grandmothers house. I remember the smell of it, the smell of old velvet and Pal Mal cigarettes. I remember the warmth of her sofa, the way that my little body fit so perfectly made me feel like it was designed just for me. I remember the feel of of the velvet cushions, how the softness contrasted so drastically from the brass studs that lined both of the arms. I remember laying there, covered up and drifting off to sleep as the matriarchs sat around in the dark.

There they convened, not ready to say goodnight, but speaking only in hushed tones, trying not to disturb me.

I remember the glow of their lit cigarettes in the dark, the only evidence of their position in the blackness of my great grandmothers living room. I remember the guarded chuckle of my grandmother, the way she would stop herself from laughing her full bellied laugh just so not to disrupt my slumber. I remember my great grandmothers rough voice, hushing the herd reminding them of my ever approaching dreams. I remember my mother, her small hands pulling the cover up to my chin and brushing the hair out of my face ever so lightly, before she herself plodded off to bed. I remember as I drifted off thinking, "I am loved."

I remember that sofa, like an old song you hear only once in awhile that takes you back. Back to a place of simple thoughts, simple dreams, and simple worries. I miss that place, and I miss that sofa. But I am older now. My grandmother and great grandmother have long since passed on. My mother's beauty and small hands show lines of laughter and of tears, and I myself have a child of my own. One who I pull the covers up to their chin right before I drag myself to bed. It is nights like this, nights I write in the darkness; the end of my lit cigarette the only thing that gives a inclination of my position in the blackness of my living room. Here is where I sit and reminisce of that black velvet sofa, the smell of Pal Mal's and the laughter in the dark.