Just me


Child of Light
A child of August, 
I held fireflies 
in small, brown hands 
trusting in their light. 
Small and fierce, 
Aslan was my teacher 
waiting for me, 
through the 
wilderness of the real, 
into the worlds 
of my creation. 
Dreaming one, 
so fervently alive, 
I wrote 
epic poems and spoke 
with a child’s tongue. 
I created  
masterpiece canvases 
with penny paints and polaroids 
And with silent knowing, 
I could fly. 
Doing so, nightly, 
holding onto the azure sky 
like a blue-black mare  
in a race against time. 
Now, a child of the heart, 
I hold love  
in reverent hands, 
trusting in it’s light. 
Small and fierce, 
the words of the soul 
wait for me 
recognizing the  
young one 
under the illusion 
of adult.

4 thoughts on “Just me

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