Moving On. . .

One day it all started.  Then, as with all things, it ended.  The beginning was full of joy and love and sex and innocence.  A zeal for life.  A new beginning.  Life was a waltz moving, moving.  Spinning, spinning.  Dizzy days and not caring for much.  Throwing caution to the wind.

Then the day grew long.  The spinning slowed and eventually stopped.  I wept and was not sorry. There was no solace in the ear of a friend or the aroma of a cigar or a loud party or an evening alone.

And now there is waiting.

Waiting for a new song.  Different arms.  The awkward moments.  First smiles.  New lips on mine.

And then we will take our walks.  Sip our coffee in the morning that is much too early.  Experiencing newness in the mundane.  Traveling to new places and even seeing old things as if for the first time.

I used to be a cynic.  Dry.  Protected.  Indifferent.

But then I was broken and the innocence and the vulnerable spilled out.

For a season stuck, but now out. . . and moving on.