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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_{Animation By @zord189}

So unpredictable...

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I write stories that are different

This is gorgeous and cool, friend.

Graceful. So minimal.

Minimal can be really good sometimes

Must say that this is a different one @wales 😉 more like a self note rather than a story 😂 but still.. luv the way you knitted the plot

Thanks; the stories just come as a freewrite mostly, one word after another

This is beautiful prose:

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.

Makes me think of Rilke.

Thanks; I wish it would make me enough money to buy a camera; been almost a year now without a camera

When I read your posts, I always feel like you just sit down at the table, start writing and words flow.. Natural talent :)

Thanks. Most of what I've done starts as around 7 in the morning just after I wake up and have my first coffee; and I usually do around a 1000 words before breakfast. But just lately I've been writing late at night and find my mind wandering so that I don't do as much.

Glad you danced and are off to the Eiffel tower - before you need to get your coffee via intravenous drip 😂

I'm sure I'll get there one day with or without coffee

Hello @wales, thank you for sharing this creative work! We just stopped by to say that you've been upvoted by the @creativecrypto magazine. The Creative Crypto is all about art on the blockchain and learning from creatives like you. Looking forward to crossing paths again soon. Steem on!

Thank you very much, I'm over the moon

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