Who here loves breast Milk?

Close your eyes and you can possibly see the vision of your life. The mind is cold and dark. Thoughts pump like the mouth, of a child on the nozzle of his mother’s bosom. His eyes glisten as nature takes over nurture. His blond hair waves frantically in the air. His retinas reflect the possibility of a dreamer or an already defeated mindset. His name is unknown. His body lies between his mother’s arms like pashmina around the torso of a mid-wife. Tuck in between the ideology of uncertainty and unlimited imagination. His nose is razor sharp like a precisely cut piece of loose leaf struck from the back side of Mother Nature. His cheek bones melted into the honey glazed texture of his methodic skin color.

I see this all through the window of a bodega and wonder who will he become? My eyes do its best not to make grandiose retina contact. From this angle, perverted would have been the tag line. But I tend to think deeper than most. Don’t hold that against me.

The wind brushes over my dark Caesar salad hugged within my finger tips. I seek hunger over the frozen weather of Brooklyn, New York. I hate the cold. But what I dislike has no appeal to you what so ever, you came here to read a story. So I must continue. I move from the scene like a vulture in wonder. Wings start to expand and my thoughts begin to take flight. I contemplate if not for a quick moment, granted the next generation of children, are not ready to explore this world as deep seas divers in the treacherous shores of life without their hefty life jacket.

They will just stay deserted on the island of comfort as most assume to retire upon. Skin basked in the sole’ of mental deficiency, body sunk within the sand of time and arms folded like chairs of shame.

It’s only a matter of time. For only time will tell. Words mean nothing in a world of non-stop motion. Fruits of stagnation bare no harvest. So no matter what this child may say.

A squirrel the color of a Chinese egg roll, adapts to a leaf straddling the wind chill.

My thoughts pause then continue.

When he gets older and is able to think on his own. The only thing which will matter is what he does….