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until your lungs scream until you’ve blown off the steam until the world seems just a little tamer. runwalk four until the sweat pours and the trees store up the last of your secretsand you can run and whisper and scream no more.
There is laughter when they think of all they were supposed to be, all corseted and silver-spoon fed with feet crammed into ridiculous shoes. Here, even the steeds are unshod and trail-trod, mudlucious in their gorgeous freedom. This forest is flush with both silence and song. Here, they choose. … Continue reading
it’s the downy kite stuff of wandered wishes, childish dreams and fragile hope. so much pondered promise in the audacity and tenacity of a simple weed. we don’t stop to doubt or wonder why. we just take a deep breath and fly. seeds let :: Merril’s got an … Continue reading
, all she remembers is blood -red wine in fragile glasses, and empty plates the color of bone. ::twiglet #225
the other one tends to get all the attention (all that tangerine morning shine) , but she (more sinister sister, dark side tried and true light thief) still knows how to own a sky. we stop and watch her balloon-float gloat her way up, a full hot cup of … Continue reading
Somebody said good -bye, and there will be no more poems. But these sassy chicas have bared their feet and souls and are ready to throw a moon rave again. Anybody got a magic (wand) pen? ::May Day! May Day! No prompt. All play.
There’s a pile of pumps at the peaceful passage leading to Wildling Wood. They’ve kicked (off) up their heels and wielded their swords and let all that hair (golden and otherwise)down and traded their pointy crowns for flowers. Now, they spend hours bare-foot loose and fancy -free, having also … Continue reading
:: Evening the score the playing field our un-fisted, twisted hands, we stand in awe of sky of star-sparked why of poker-faced moon. In the end, odds are, we’re even. ::
They gather in their daisy-chain crowns and their mudlucious feetto drink in that golden stone falling. They clasp hands and stand with faces draped in tangerine glowkissed only by a tower of shine. They sigh. That feisty moon rises. And the shenanigans begin.