Friday, November 11, 2011

The Child

The child hopped, skipped and jumped over the broken glass.
She seemed to enjoy the game,
Her keen eyes glistening at the multi-coloured, shiny pieces,
Hair flying like wild horses, mouth still dirty from the last chocolate she licked.
She was unsupervised, no mom, no dad, no siblings,
No bad boys who often pulled her hair and pushed her around.
She hopped freely over the sharp edges,
Hopscotch with invisible chalk,
Her entire life focused on this game she played with herself.
Time forgotten, fear never known,
She played.
Her pearl feet landing like little fairies,
On the shattered glass.
And as her tresses jumped up and down with her,
She watched herself in litte bits on the floor,
Painted in green, pink, yellow and blue.
It was fun,
This game,
On broken, shattered glass.