She was fine with the solstice but the equinox got her every time.
He told her she was just the same as everyone else.
She thought that was not true all the time.
Someday she’d be someone’s The One and not a stand-in For Now.
She was an expert at transition
But could not abide consistency.
She didn’t see a calm pond but saw a stagnant cesspool.
She’d sing to the songs the breeze carried
He’d try to pin her like a moth to a board
When she really wanted the flame carried on the wires.
Had she really been told she could do anything
Or was that a daydream like the others?
What a lie if true, what a story if not.
There were constraints binding her to the Now but not her mind which delved into Then and Again.
For every change she built a pattern
For every room she’d create a space
In her vision he glowed like starlight
In her ears she sang for herself alone.
He thought he knew her seasons but she surprised him just the same.
The Word Rummager 