your little one
I like to think I am a secret joyful memory. The place you go when you want to be free.
I was always the girl who couldn't be held. The one who somehow slipped just out of your arms, lingered at the edges of your fingertips. A hesitant wild thing that wanted so badly to be tamed rather than caged. I could only ever be tempered by the harshness of a cage.
I hope you think of me when the wind susses across the leaves in the trees. When the light of the spring reflects across grass in a particular way. I hope that I remind you of renewal and all heaving life. The quickening of heartbeats like foxes snuggled together, eyes closed in the heat of the afternoon. The whole of the world enclosed within our breathing.
I was always the girl who couldn't be held. The one who somehow slipped just out of your arms, lingered at the edges of your fingertips. A hesitant wild thing that wanted so badly to be tamed rather than caged. I could only ever be tempered by the harshness of a cage.
I hope you think of me when the wind susses across the leaves in the trees. When the light of the spring reflects across grass in a particular way. I hope that I remind you of renewal and all heaving life. The quickening of heartbeats like foxes snuggled together, eyes closed in the heat of the afternoon. The whole of the world enclosed within our breathing.