Little-Fiery-One

Child of Mine Dear St. Nick, I imagine his hand to be the size of raspberry, grasping at my finger. Swaddled tenderly, his chest will rise and fall in the depths of sleep. Remember I do not ask for a name tag, though Bennett suits him just fine. Be careful, treat him with care, and keep him warm during the night. In your bag you carry precious cargo, the only thing I have truly wanted. I imagine him giggling, cooing at his father’s voice; cheeks soft, eyes round. They do not have to be certain color, though brown or blue will due. I expect him to be intelligent, my months of singing and reading paying off. When he looks at me I will

Velvet Melody A voice like velvet strokes the wind, like a brush painted red. The melody is a tainted echo, that makes the fire cry.

Nameless Melody Sometimes I surprise myself with the things I think, the things I create A quilt of puddled watercolors soaked in auburn shades My mind works in odd ways, winding around in circles, tying in knots It wanders far and wide with a million thoughts. I think of faces, of names, of places and games. Imagination like a flame, budding like blossoms I question if the thoughts will ever soften. Painting in words, I craft in all colors Of dreams and tales I find myself to be the author. In my mind, veiled, it’s like living in a fairy-tale. On cold nights I thrive, with my dark brown eyes With a book clutched to heart, my fav