i think of him outdoors
chopping air with his fingertips
a chance meeting
between wind and man
each a survivor of time
but not of love
i savor the moment
yet to come
when i too
shall greet the wind
with my fingertips
achieving creative freedom
but until then
i shall entice my interest
with words and wet clay
mold what i know
bathe my hands in spring water
by mary ann blinkhorn
written for Three Word Wednesday at: http://www.threewordwednesday.com/
mypenandme 