The first stop is my mother’s youth.
Her smile, soft like morning light.
I’d sit there, silent, watching her.
Her dreams still unbroken, fully hers.
I’d go nowhere near my worst day,
would lock it away, a shadowed vault.
I’d bring my journal, pages open, waiting—
questions tearing to be inked by life.
I’d steal Monet's brush, damp with color,
steal time itself, if it’d let me borrow.
Take a selfie with Galileo under stars,
show him the phone, he’d call it magic.
Then, I'd find you before we even met,
leave a note on your unwritten heartbeat.
The time machine hums like oceans in motion;
where river bends, I’ll follow or flee.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: January 19th, 2026 05:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
Offline)
Comments1
A most fanciful flight through time and space that reminds me of old sci-fi movies from the fifties and sixties. Romantic and with a frosted feel of happy ever after dreams. Lovely Gray
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback and support
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