Dream home.
It's a castle. A castle of alabaster, set on a cliff, with towers and turrets and bright-colored pennants. A drawbridge, a moat filled with songbirds, and shiny painted glass in all the windows. I'd plant a garden filled with jasmine and night blooms. Fresh-water streams would glitter in the moonlight.
I'd build a dungeon, deep and dank beneath the ground. Heavy iron chains thread the walls, waiting, circling. Torches for light, glimmering gold and red on mildewed bones. Screams and groans and the sweet red perfume ringing through stone...
It'd be party. Tea and crumpets and jam, mother's milk for the wee ones. Rows and rows of lovely dollies dressed in their best silks. None shall misbehave. Bright bouncy curls, liquid eyes showing their whites. Must tie ribbons over their lips; dollies must stay silent. They can perch on the shelves.
Daddy would be there, and Grandmummy too. All the little boys and girls, paper and porcelain. And we’d have braised dragon for supper.
I'd build a dungeon, deep and dank beneath the ground. Heavy iron chains thread the walls, waiting, circling. Torches for light, glimmering gold and red on mildewed bones. Screams and groans and the sweet red perfume ringing through stone...
It'd be party. Tea and crumpets and jam, mother's milk for the wee ones. Rows and rows of lovely dollies dressed in their best silks. None shall misbehave. Bright bouncy curls, liquid eyes showing their whites. Must tie ribbons over their lips; dollies must stay silent. They can perch on the shelves.
Daddy would be there, and Grandmummy too. All the little boys and girls, paper and porcelain. And we’d have braised dragon for supper.