huddled in a shadowed corner sits a child…
hurt, empty and stuck in Hell
with no one to hold onto
nothing for comfort
all centering around emptiness
listening to the wind rustle
the faint whistles of nearby bird
and the sound of no one coming
the child wraps his arms around himself
an invisible blanket from the pain
lying down something creeps about
whiskers brush the child’s nose as he says
Hello, Friend
to the tiny mouse by his side
child
Turning Tales
carouseling around
a child at play
gusts beneath arms
topple upward
fly down
scrape the sky
catch the clouds
turn to trees
and hear a story
about a princess
prying out of a tower
and a prince below
extending a flower
prance through the pollen
bottling bushels a barrel
all the way home
until the fairies are done
casting their tales