Why is David writing again? People take great photos.

by david on June 20, 2014

Photo by Jess S.

There once was a girl, white
linen dress, who fancied being a mermaid
and lived by the sea
Led by guts and full of whimsy,
she fled the porch, lantern lit
when her watchful guardian’s oven mitts
plunged heartily,
clutching homemade memories
and slicing pride onto heavy plates,
glossy and preserved,
As deep blue as a midnight seen
It’s where she needed to be
Without permission
The moonlight, her guide,
a mischievous new friend
She ran ferociously, up hills of sand,
toward the horizon,
elusive and teasing
The tall grass beckoned,
“Rest, young one. Lay your head
and be our queen.
Let us contour your every footstep
and you shall rule here,
free”
But this call went unheard
As dawn began to peek
Nosy as can be, past the moon
Passing tides
Waves of screams trailed her scent,
The guardian’s over a worn picket fence
She crawled still, tired and hungry
toward the horizon
Determined not to fall or sleep
Only to realize a dream

 

“Jess’s photo” by David King
Photo by Jess S.

 

Revision – 5.3.2015

There once was a girl, white
linen dress, who fancied being a mermaid
and lived by the sea
Led by guts, so full
of whimsy, she fled the porch,
lantern lit,
when her watchful guardian’s oven mitts
clutched homemade memories
slicing banana nut pride onto heavy plates
glossy, preserved
and as deep a blue as midnight seen

The ocean
was where she needed to be
without permission
the moonlight, her guide,
a mischievous new friend
She ran ferociously
up hills of sand
toward the horizon, elusive and teasing
Tall grass beckoned,
“Rest, young one. Lay your head.
Be our queen. Let us contour every footstep
and you shall rule here,

free.”
But this call went unheard
as dawn began to peek
nosy it can be, past the moon
passing tides
a wave of screams trailed her scent
‘Twas the guardian’s over a worn picket fence
The girl, crawling still
toward the horizon, tired and hungry
determined neither to fall nor sleep
only to realize
a dream

 

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