{ starter call } + majestiique
& t'is swift feet & sweet laughter as she runs, adolescent
game of which only she is participating, twirling ‘round all
she comes across & keeping a tally in her mind that grows
& shrinks based on what she forgets however briefly & ;;
it is a glorified run, a race with the wind as her challenger,
cheating as it catches fine skirts.
& you should know that she tries, this woman-child with
curls as wild as she under weight of her fun ;; tries ever so
hard to avoid collision but she does so well for so long that
attempts become lax but moments before inevitable comes
in flurry of dark hair & feet catch skirts in manner that sends
youthful form crashing to ground below as balance cannot
be maintained.
surprise softens impact & perhaps she aught thank own
skirt for once, their mass protecting palms from injury via
unforgiving ground & she can feel fluttering heart turn to
pounding against iron birdcage of ribs & for one moment,
there is where attention is focused 'fore, finally, gaze comes
to lift.
❝ FORGIVE ME, I did not see you there … ❞
