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Tag Archives: fixing the endings
at never being kissedat being dissed at having missed out on kingdom things. or perhaps he hops (happily) wild in the woodssheds all those shouldsand at nightfall, he sings. :: It’s Wednesday. We poem.
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
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
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.
It’s easy, here in Wildling Wood,where the moon casts her nightly spell. She tells the sky just how to brew and spill its starry secrets. The flowers bow and curtsy to the passing breeze, a whimsy’d waltz. Dragons dance with nymphsand every soul gets a second … Continue reading
Here, they’re barefoot and barefaced and the only crowns they wear are daisy-chained. They’re stained in wild berries and luscious mud and maple syrup. They’re warriors of whimsy, wildlings writing their own stories withsticky fingers and hearts finally given a chance. The night sky’s their only gownand they’ve doubled down … Continue reading
:: It occurred to her she had a sword of her own so she wields it strong. ::
Cinder goes by Ella now,and she and Belle agreethat if they can get Snow to show the magic number’s 3. Might a quartet be better? that trio does suppose,so once she’s had a tiny napthey wake up Briar Rose. Why not five? … Continue reading
She’s due to throw a shoe, but she’s thinking about saying (bibbidi bobbidi)boo to the whole thing, and just making a fine pumpkin stew. :: PAD, day 23.
You might find them in the woods, if you can get past the nymphs (who are on their side). They only want the kiss of breeze, the romance of trees, the squeeeee of mud-lucious squish between unadorned toes. They’re done with spells and slippers and … Continue reading