Have you ever seen a ray of sunlight peek-a-boo through a tiny crack in the curtains, and in that ray a stream of dust beheld, suspended, moving effortlessly across the air? You wonder to yourself how dust can be so polluted and yet so pure, at the same time. How something undetected yet beautiful, could be mistaken for common but is so rare.
You are the beautiful and rare part.
You are also an imaginary character and I know
TV screens cannot feel.
So your soul lost in fiction’s realm
could never hear any of my thoughts.
Why can’t I be trapped in Pleasantville?
Copyright © 2017 Angela Marie Suor