A gentle trough of skin like velvet seems an odd design for a boy's neck or a horse’s nose. Yet here I am. Your Lego seascape spread on the floor, and me mid-hover like an off-course shorebird. Do you see me flounder? I conjure ways to return to float in that swirl of hair tip top your small head—to drift a little longer—a buoy in the current of our story. This is the movie I play on repeat, me swooping in just on time when you choose one day to go. I want to touch your neck—hint of sweat and dip of earlobe—your hand brushing mine away. There is no bird. I am a channel marking a way, and you are long gone to sea.
4 replies on “Tall Ship”
Lesley-Anne, I’ve hovered like an off-course shorebird over my tall ships as well. This is marvelous.
Thanks so much for reading and commenting, Amy. I’m so sorry I didn’t see your generous words until now.
Beautiful. My first Lego builder just went to college so I feel this one in many ways.
Christina, last Christmas we put out lego on our coffee table, and for a few evenings our three 20-somethings (and me) had a splendid time building small worlds and things. It’s not over, just morphing. All the best.