Stretched wide across mountains and valleys, clusters of hills and springs of rivers, a soft brown veil dusted with gold. Take a long nail, pry it aside, come, see whatβs within for a modest fine. My flesh, a soft pink for a childhood much missed, my blood, a loud red for all the shocks Iβm full of, my bone, Iβm not too sure for none have travelled far but if you pressed me hard enough, youβd feel it - scrolls of poems written and yet to be, my tongue a ribbon binding them all, my teeth an ivory chest to contain them, and sweet lips carefully locking them for now. A treasure trove awaits those of my blood and water, presented on a silver platter under a soft brown veil dusted with gold stretched wide across mountains and valleys, clusters of hills and springs of rivers.