My home is in the pages of another's story.
The ink that scribbles my scene whispers
more than it shouts, quieting and calming.
Like a silent pause between scaling notes
in a song, forgotten but felt,
where heartbeats are found.
I'm the one standing outside
the spotlight, content in the shadows.
One scene: heroes and legends pose under the same dramatic sky,
I'm there, too, quietly threading fate's needle,
guiding wayward protagonists back to their path,
simply, with words soft-spoken,
like night rain: soft, comforting pitter-patter on rooftop.
A gentle reminder to my world:
ask for nothing, give everything.
In fleeting moment, as cameras pan and tilt away,
and spotlights dim, my truth unrolls
in listening, in giving a smile, a wink, a glance,
a nod, an embrace, all without fanfare.
For isn't it the silent spaces between actions,
the unspoken support behind our steps,
that keep us standing and push us forward?
Like the everpresent moon, sometimes unseen
I shine in the soft glow of reflected light,
enough to guide but not to blind.
So, let me walk edges of the scene,
in the sidelines, where plotlines are whispered,
as central heroes are revealed in shadow and light.
I find truth in these spaces, subtlety profoundly reserved
in the background.
Daily writing prompt
If you could be a character from a book or film, who would you be? Why?
