Dirt

I yearn to create something; to have a mind that wanders and floats and plays.

My mind is dirt. And when I say dirt, I mean the gooey treat we had the privilege of eating as children; the dessert that conjures up nostalgia and reminds me of excitement and being at Grandma's. I often see my thoughts as brown. Not very enticing. Warm, maybe, and down to earth; the most primitive of all colors.

But I think because I was created, I can create. I'm pretty sure there are some multicolored gummy worms wiggling around in the brown matter. I want to find them, and I want to set them free.