and bury it before it buries me
They are children.
The both of them.
They are not in a meadow, but on a playground. Elena, bold, bold Elena is hanging onto the metal chains of a swing, that blonde hair is wild as it swings back and forth with her. Those legs pump higher and higher, with practiced movement. And then she pushes off, lets go of those chains because they never could held her back anyway. And she faces nothing else in this world as she leaps. Nothing but gravity.
She lands on her feet, crouched down, a hand touching the ground for support as laughter races to her lips. Leaping to her feet, she races back to the swing.
She grabs that swing, holds the cold chain in her hand, but she does not sit, she is too busy staring at the boy across the playground, with a sad smile, and wildflowers eyes. Eyes that look like they could belong to the bouquet he holds in his small hands. She goes to him, a bounce in her step because life cannot yet hold her down. There is dirt on her knees, her clothes are worn from hours, days of sunshine and play. She taps him on the shoulder with a gentle hand. “Will you trade me a swing for a flower?” She asks him with that smile that says she wants so much more than a flower. And if he wants a friend he will have one.
“Ah, a rarity,” she says when he offers his own emotions towards the plants. She hadn't known too many who shared her enthusiasm, not since Lilli, not since they played in Paraiso’s flower garden. “I think I have what I need,” she offers him an answer with a smile. “They are so deceiving,” Elena comments. “You don't always imagine something so beautiful being so useful,” she says. And yet here they were—blossoming in every corner.
His comment bring silver bell laughter and another smile, low and easy. “I would give away gold and gemstones for a bouquet of roses,” she says, means. Gold, gems, such cold, solid things. But flowers, oh, now they grew, they moved, they breathed. They were alive, they were full of life. A living crown was far better than a dead one.
Elena settles closer to him, admiring his flowers, the wings upon his feet. Maybe he was a butterfly in another life, just as she always thought herself to be a honey bee.
She knew another who thought themselves a butterfly, and together they flew from flower to flower.
“I will have a place waiting for them.” Cross her heart. She laughs and touches his shoulder as soft as a flower petal. “I am willing to find out if you are,” she says. Friends. She needed them, more of them. She needed more smiles blooming in her life.
“I’ll trade you,” she offers him, like she does in universes away from where they are now. She hands one of her own flowers back to him. “A flower for a friend?” She asks, with forget-me-not blue eyes. She cant explain it, but she knows they both need to be going. “Promise, you will come see me, Po, please?” She asks him, as if that please could make a person climb mountains and swim to the bottom of the ocean. And maybe it can. She turns to leave, her bundle of flowers with her and look back at him with one last smile made from the day’s sunshine. “And I will have you know, I take promises, very seriously.” And like a cloud in the sky, her laughter floats by before she leaves the meadow, wildflowers in her hair.
The both of them.
They are not in a meadow, but on a playground. Elena, bold, bold Elena is hanging onto the metal chains of a swing, that blonde hair is wild as it swings back and forth with her. Those legs pump higher and higher, with practiced movement. And then she pushes off, lets go of those chains because they never could held her back anyway. And she faces nothing else in this world as she leaps. Nothing but gravity.
She lands on her feet, crouched down, a hand touching the ground for support as laughter races to her lips. Leaping to her feet, she races back to the swing.
She grabs that swing, holds the cold chain in her hand, but she does not sit, she is too busy staring at the boy across the playground, with a sad smile, and wildflowers eyes. Eyes that look like they could belong to the bouquet he holds in his small hands. She goes to him, a bounce in her step because life cannot yet hold her down. There is dirt on her knees, her clothes are worn from hours, days of sunshine and play. She taps him on the shoulder with a gentle hand. “Will you trade me a swing for a flower?” She asks him with that smile that says she wants so much more than a flower. And if he wants a friend he will have one.
“Ah, a rarity,” she says when he offers his own emotions towards the plants. She hadn't known too many who shared her enthusiasm, not since Lilli, not since they played in Paraiso’s flower garden. “I think I have what I need,” she offers him an answer with a smile. “They are so deceiving,” Elena comments. “You don't always imagine something so beautiful being so useful,” she says. And yet here they were—blossoming in every corner.
His comment bring silver bell laughter and another smile, low and easy. “I would give away gold and gemstones for a bouquet of roses,” she says, means. Gold, gems, such cold, solid things. But flowers, oh, now they grew, they moved, they breathed. They were alive, they were full of life. A living crown was far better than a dead one.
Elena settles closer to him, admiring his flowers, the wings upon his feet. Maybe he was a butterfly in another life, just as she always thought herself to be a honey bee.
She knew another who thought themselves a butterfly, and together they flew from flower to flower.
“I will have a place waiting for them.” Cross her heart. She laughs and touches his shoulder as soft as a flower petal. “I am willing to find out if you are,” she says. Friends. She needed them, more of them. She needed more smiles blooming in her life.
“I’ll trade you,” she offers him, like she does in universes away from where they are now. She hands one of her own flowers back to him. “A flower for a friend?” She asks, with forget-me-not blue eyes. She cant explain it, but she knows they both need to be going. “Promise, you will come see me, Po, please?” She asks him, as if that please could make a person climb mountains and swim to the bottom of the ocean. And maybe it can. She turns to leave, her bundle of flowers with her and look back at him with one last smile made from the day’s sunshine. “And I will have you know, I take promises, very seriously.” And like a cloud in the sky, her laughter floats by before she leaves the meadow, wildflowers in her hair.
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Ipomoea
![[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8026a53b-dc57-41ab-b574-9f8a8fe57ce4/ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db0780.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzgwMjZhNTNiLWRjNTctNDFhYi1iNTc0LTlmOGE4ZmU1N2NlNFwvZGR2b3R3ZS01OTMwMmJhNi02YTgxLTQ3YmYtOTg0Ni0zMGM1YTVkYjA3ODAucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.ujCJH7FAbsQhfZlQniMmEd_vw-VmvaTDn0iFb4PvyXE)
let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star
