1 January 2015

Childhood

sitting under my tree skirt of dappled light dancing on the forest floor
I could believe I was invisible, ethereal, controlling my universe of pine needles
that I could speak to the faeries and spirits of the wind, that they heard me
when no one else would sit still to listen.

Lonely free my world became that space in my head
Between phrases ink spills onto pages


23aug2014