Current Residence: Between the north and south poles|
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Skin of choice: panda ^w^
Personal Quote: "It's okay! We understand! We can get you *Help*!
Winter is a ChildHands -- thousands of them -- areWinter is a Child by LunaticApparatus
tickling my house.
Fingers wave like streamers on
a bike handle against my window
because they can't reach me inside.
I go to them, having felt small of late,
And stretch long arms
out to meet the sweet touch.
Children grab my fingers as they go
inviting me to join the game.
"It's ice," my adult brain tells me,
monotone. "A sleet storm and nothing more."
But my eyes see sugar,
soft and round and fragile,
not yet complicated, sharp crystals which float so timidly down.
Their touch is silken and strong.
They do not collapse in frailty at my warmth - they cling to me,
wrapping dimpled fingers around my hair.
"I wish I was magic," I whisper to the child
pulling at my shirt.
She cups her hand over my ear and says, "You are,"
and sprinkles more pixie dust on my arms.
The wind shifts and blows the sweetness on my face -
A boy, rosy-cheeked and smiling as he pants,
I follow him out to the grass, how can I resist?