soft words and their way of making people sing lull me like a sweet tune in this chimney, in this place in my head, slurring over and over until lines would draw up triangles of sleepy infant "jeux", circles of faded fantasies would come to life and pray, plus rectangles and cornucopias filled with fun and livelier days. clouds of droopy golden light drip over our heads as we lay in soft blankets made out of my personal Heaven's embrace lush silk pillows under our overweight, over-bearing, strongly fastened necks 'cause they hold Atlas' weight and the answers for today. the cycle ends for another shortened day... the air seems rich with the smell of freshly-made pancakes. little troll walking down the stairs with a new spring in her step. lean into the chocolatey sweetness of a mother's oven-like haze, close your eyes and wonder if you'll ever feel the same.
distinct memories like these hold the most childlike tenderness in the world, sometimes your own vulnerability is worth being thought of when revisiting memories like mine.