I was a Child, the piano an escalator. we danced, the stairs and I, shackled to heaven’s baroque architecture, to the Music’s swollen joints. our Knees creaked, lamenting: we’re as old as Mozart, and he only lasted a couple of decades before he expired into History.
I was Scared of being a Child.
the Sun hurt my eyes. the dew took too long to evaporate. I hated the fact that I had never tasted coffee. I told my mother that I wanted granola instead of Peanut Butter Puffin Puffs.
the Day was a Cathedral.
us Children built a society, a city in the Rose bushes. we bent the brambles into arches that could support the weight of our Symmetry. we made our world into something delicate. and our Bones were stretched, de-calcified.
In the evening, I read High Fantasy.