Weighed heavily in my throat.
I’m so far up the ladder of make believe the pixies consider me a large uncle.
A gentle giant they’ve known for years who visits in sleep time and ruins their dreams by tickling their feet.
I’m not discreet.
All was well until the tulips started asking for more pocket money.
I thought I’d paid them enough in tears and sweat until they chanted “more!”
They wanted regret.
The bookcase of faith had tripped and fallen on its flat white face.
Empty pages fell open all over the god forsaken place.
Two pillars lodged in stone weighed heavily in my throat.
They’d live to sing an eternal tune had I not taken the boat.
I’m so far up the ladder of make believe even the dead take time to grieve.
© G.P Williamson 2018 <———- Click for Instagram.