Candid Corvid Productions

She was not waiting for just anybody.
No…she wasn’t into more temporary.

If I’m a fool, then I’m a fool – who’s in love.

—

(Content concept play)

What causes the pulse to pound
Beyond normal range of flattery?

What steals one’s breath in passing
As if it’s the source of all breathing?

What causes a heart to crave
Certain perfect imperfections?

What freezes where once brave
Because means the world to me?

A phrase past hung upon shoulders of others, as if trying to match pictures to frame – yet not quite felt the same as only once before, and this time irrefutable.

She sat there, eyes downcast, afraid to look at him directly for fear that she might see confirmation that it was all just a game, afterall – a ruse to call her out from hiding and make fun of her heart’s yearning vulnerability.

Hands clasping her fingers tightly on top of her lap as they ached to reach out to touch his face and extend arms to hold him, her eyes burned with tears as they rebelled at her refusal to at last gaze into his own.

—-

(Title of multiple meanings)

I remember being at my grandparent’s home
Always a place of safety away from main society

Yet planted in the very heart of prime social elitism
Only just one door away by grandpa playing piano

And when I returned as a teen after he had passed
The place felt the same but much more empty

I could have stayed there forever and would have
Had my grandmother left the house in will to me

But my uncle and his family eventually took over
All properties and moved her with them for caretaking

I got a small funding to begin my own life later
Her parting gift used to spread wings for flying