Prose

One little lollipop girl

I saw a little girl riding her bike today. Her pink and purple curls lazily lapped her face. The sun swam like mischievous Gaia into her. And I left the noise in my own shell.

Β 
Β 

She was singing a church song. A sad song. It was about doing good and loving the brazen heroes of today. She told some folks it was about letting lying leave, and being bold and good. All I heard was the song’s ancestral thrum in her voice.

Β 
Β 

She sang not only for god, but also for her righteous rapid religion. Fifteen full weeks she had the story of this mystic outside of herself, hanging and dying for the sweet essential things that burnt the rest of us. Well, the story slowly softened her head. The cold wind around her cloaked everything. Her silk shoulders held the clay, the ceramic archetypes, and a small little girl about to give birth to a universe.

Β 
Β 

It was sad. For I watched a girl on a bicycle, ride away and then come back again. Caught in a self sustained septic circle. She loved the air. She saw flecks of wind softly swirling into her curls. A brand new bicycle too. It had magic flyers and a silver stained bell that could do all the talking.

Β 
Β 

She rode something more than herself. The hardy iron-bent shoulders of a lonely song sped her into the wind. It made every scrap of her calm collected consciousness fly, and swirl into sweet-scented heaven.

Β 
Β 

“If you want to be healthy love Jeeee-sis. If you want to get along, and fell very strong…”

Some primal rhythm rapped her up. I cried I could sit a watch this young thrumming beauty, with all her flecks and her foibles. I wanted to scope up the spoons of light lying around her brand new bike, and her light butterfly hair swimming in the wind. My soft tears turned down my cheeks, and torn holes at the bottom of everything.

Β 
Β 

I loved the crisp collected experience. I loved the joy and petite tinkling bell, tickling her button brown ears. I loved the sun, warmth and her silver purring gesture, she threw a swift wink…and I saved myself a smile.

Β 
Β 

She called my name from her solitary side of the road.

“It’s supper time now.”

She whisked herself away, with a big burbling giggle, knowing I’d be back in a bit.

Β 
Β 

Β 
Β 

Β 
Β 

PhilosopherPoet

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s