first on one foot and then the other,
pauses and breathes again.
the floors are mustard.
with little stone chips embedded.
yellow like mustard
someone moved our toys,
she whispers.
fairies?
yes, fairies.
and the komodo dragon?
among the bamboo?
near the river?
with poisonous saliva?
he wont bite will he?
run! she shouts. run!
so they run and run
until they cant breathe
and they tumble and squeal and laugh
with gravel crunching
and the smell of cookies and nutmeg
of nutmeg skin
a hint of happiness
of holding on
to a swollen river
not this one, not now, but then.
far and long ago.
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