“come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be…”
The bum shape left in the sand reminds her of a day in the past, and hopefully also in the future… blue is lovely colour, misunderstood for sadness. Toes covered in wet sand, dreams of shelled castles built and destroyed.
She is whimsical and is a girl. Loves her space and being pampered. She is the girl you see fly a kite every Thursday as a mid-week treat… Then she’d talk to you – if you were feeling leery or sober, calculative or innocent. She couldn’t care for your frame of mind if you spoke to her on the beach.
Would cry if the kite was lost, but give it away back to the kid she bought it from after an hour’s play. You would shake your head in knowing her childlike smile and her toddler tantrums… She loves your bike more than you sometimes. You would let her… now – wouldn’t you?
Her room fluctuates between abject messes to a whole day of cleaning and decorating. She will make you birthday cards, still, not buy them at Hallmark. She writes like she is – whimsical, dancing.
After all she is she.
Her world is more real in her head and she can un-wrap the masks everyone wears. You would let her too… She might even claim to know you better than anyone else. Then again she might be right. She is naïve but can hold-her-own-thankyou-very-much… She pouts for attention when she already has it. She sulks and she makes love with her eyes.
She pretends to be a boy and gets away with it – for a while. She unfolds out of bed and stretches like a kitten only for your attention. She loves shaggy dogs!
I am full of me… upto the brim and overflowing for you to scoop up and savour… This bum shape on the beach is mine as is this world – glass marble won in dirt on my palm.