memory spincycle.

Its fun to try to find those kid like feelings you had, where you build scenarios and fill it with "what if" mind games with yourself. Maybe its just me.

The lights on the tree were blinding bugs

who unintentially bothered us

with nowhere to go,

forced in by the snow,

opening presents by default.

 

They judged our best intentions,

lassoing hope,

then letting go.

So we had to force our hopes,

and unknowingly let faith go.

 

Every holiday since,

I just stay in my bed,

counting sheep,

plotting fields,

building fences.

 

So I'm back in my crib.

So you must too be a kid.

Maybe I'll find you,

to warn you,

or brace you.

 

Or maybe I wont do a thing.

Reviews

[Priscilla Sayers]

Interesting story or shall I say emotion you have painted with your words. Sadness crept in and then wanders about. nicely written my friend.