elise.writer

Nestled in forest
Find our treehouse
Spring freshly awoke
Newborn flowers woven
Into the vines of the wreath
Whereby sat a little plump nest
Whereby sat four plump blue eggs
With tender hands we moved the wreath

When the puffy dandelion is at its ripest, I pluck it from the grass.
But I rarely make a wish, because
what if my wish was wrong?
There are so many things I wish, that even if each fleck of white could represent one

"May you live every day of your life"
-Jonathan Swift

The quote was embossed in fat gold letters on the flimsy scrap of cardboard that my bicycle necklace was latched to.

"May you live every day of your life?"

The ominnous crack of the sky splitting in two
A leak of inky purple paint explodes
The harsh clap, and as an afterthought
A little rumble, a boom conveys the grumble

Dreams are hills of blue
frothing before crashing
and slipping away
beneath their descendants.
Last night there I saved
someone from drowning.
The night before I was caught
in a labyrinth with my enemy.

with their woven black cardigans and horn-rimmed glasses
they say "let's build a kind and caring community."
with crooked grins of polished white. they say
"let's trust that always we will respect one-another"