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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
#1073790 added July 10, 2024 at 12:17pm
Restrictions: None
Little Moments
Prompt: The little things. The little moments. They aren't little. Write about this in your Blog entry today.

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I woke up this morning to Noche watching me sleep. This is nothing new. This cat often watches me while I'm sleeping. Just what is so interesting about an old woman sleeping! I wonder...

Yet, this morning was special. It was the way she was watching, with her green eyes wide open. Still, she had an air of calm about her. She had lain stretched on her side with her front paws crossed and legs almost elongated. Even if this could be a far out impression, I thought for a split second that her pose was an imitation of my position on the bed. So I smiled at her. She let out a slight mew and a purr, and we kept staring at each other. I so wanted to capture her pose and this moment, but I knew the minute I would be reaching for my phone, she'd move or get up. So I just lay there, taking her in, taking in the joy of it all.

Yes, this was a little moment. But it sort of made my day. I'm still smiling thinking about it. Sometimes a brief connection, a shared moment of love, can brighten one's mood. Many tiny things that we often overlook in the rush of our lives usually have profound emotional impacts on our hearts and minds. For example, although it has been more than fifty years, I still rejoice in the photographic memory of my baby son smiling at me, while feeding, with milk flowing out slowly from the side of his mouth.

Then, in the same vein, I bet Noche, also, was smiling at me this morning while watching me sleep.




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