Feb. 1st, 2011

dreamwitch: (Default)
In the land of make believe, the girl changed with the seasons.

Sometimes she wasn't a girl, and sometimes she thought there were no seasons.

She lived in a modest hut with a sprawling garden full of poisons and treasures, and she kept her heart hidden beneath the oak next to the rose next to the fern patch next to the tomatoes and the dark, dark apple tree.

Her name was unimportant, but if you called, she always came. She always came when you wanted her.

In the land of make believe, the girl changed with the seasons.

+ + +

In the winter, when there were stars in her eyes, she stood naked out in the fierce, unforgiving sunshine outside her hut, waiting for night to fall. She would be waiting for a friend: her one friend. He had promised he would come, and he will. He will.

Her friend is a sorcerer; her friend is a fire-storm; her friend never lies, even as she lives a life without time or reason or remembrance. He would come for tea, and he would stay, he said. He would stay this time.

He came today; the shortest day, the darkest day. He came today.

He touched her cold skin and he smiled; he touched her mouth and bade her speak; he drew a robe of furs over her breast and she felt weak. He picked a dead bough to bid her walk; he rode away on his dark horse, he rode after a bird of prey. He rode, he flew, she never knew. She only waited as she stood and grew too solemn and too blue. She never knew.

He'd come that day, she always knew, and then it had been time for change, another season to exchange.

+ + +

Time to change, she thought when the boy went away. Time to change, she thought when her belly broadened. Time to be someone else, she thought when the trees fell and the leaves flew in through the window. . . . )

January 2012

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