The next place

This one didn't come with a warning so it was allowed...

Truthfully, it was around my fifth year that I began to learn how to spell the same as my guardians, who could never spell my truth song for all they were worth.

But, whatever; I gave them my love anyway until I could run away, and although they kept bringing me back, I kept on running; until one day I did get away, and found Bohemia holding out the grand charade to me.

Which I accepted with all my heart and became another brave child of the revolution that swept me up and carried me onwards for a very long time.

Oh, oh, and: ooh la la.

And then one day I looked behind me to when I was but a green mulch tree and hardly growing at all, and one cent was worth the Earth to me in voting power, and a comment sent me skywards that came from it.

Ooh; anyway, whatever; these days I'm drinking the red wine and dancing the gypsy chips, and though my time is short, I'm not above a good grin in the snowfield of my life. But, sometimes when it gets to eleven degrees I melt a little bit and look over my shoulder too much to see if the past is catching up with me faster than I can run away from it until all I can do is drip feed myself coffee, and looking, looking behind me.

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A past ganger living in the bushes and hidden under the moon, said: why are you doing that, and shivered mightily in his asking?

As I ground my teeth to find an answer about this the moon continued on passing overhead, and shimmered until I just had to dance in its beauty.

And I wondered, was this a poem or something else?

Well, nits, I said, and pulled up my skirts and did the can-can dance to all and sundry.

I never laughed so much as when I knew I was turning into the moment completely.

And on looking behind: I found it was just the deceit that was trying to capture my mind and turn it sour.

So I turned around and smiled and found the Eiffel Tower was next on my list of destinations...

Image from Pixabay

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