A little black cat is trying a butterfly in a wildflower field– it flits and flirts about, just out of reach.

Bright blue eyes are watching the crashing waves, churning seafoam reflected in her eyes.

She is sprinting through a crowded, dense city street, hands reaching out from all directions,

      pushing, pulling, grabbing, making her stumble as she moves.

The room, once an enchanting shrine to a benevolent God, stands vacant as it has for a millenia–

      dust particles in the air, visible as they are dancing and twirling through a stream of sunlight.

The little sparrow is chirping on my windowsill, as the frost on my tree begins to thaw in the sun.

He is stomping through their apartment, and she follows behind him, voice raw from their shouting

      match, and she throws up her hands and walks away.

A light post is turning on, bathing the dusky street in an orange glow.

The boy is scrambling to hide his phone as he watches his teacher approach his desk.

As the sun crests the mountain tops, a leaf is drifting down from a tree towards an old man’s porch.

A quiet ghost is watching her lover as he stands at the head of the aisle, watching his new bride

      approach.

The mother frantically puts her colic baby down–she is shaking, questioning if she can do this

      anymore.

A shredded and charred flag is waving in the cool breeze– somehow still flowing in the breeze.

The colored pencils are squeaking against paper as a little girl creates a masterpiece.

She is tying her shoelaces, stopped on the sidewalk, and thinks about how nice it would be to have

      friends that wait.