A spot of red and dash of yellow bandana masked eyes how you transport me to simpler times – childhood days when you and I
Found an old diary – days when I painted myself white, prayed to angels, believed God cared about personal forever after – painted myself pathetic.
I know what infinity means: it’s one hundred plus one. Voice of innocence serene her sense of self of life’s complexities. Should borrow from her,
She sits with me at breakfast, follows me to the park, hovers on the drive home, celebrates when I lie down, snuggles in with warming
She’s not in the kitchen presiding over preparations, thriving amidst the chatter, tutting away thieving fingers. She’s not in the classroom, mastering subjects, upholding order,
I have examined your wallpaper, discussed the scholarly attributes of shades of yellow, traced the edges of your unravelling with my mind, argued the merits