Bookends

My little niece curled up on the couch and thanked me for the book. It was the one about a shepherd’s take on the 23rd psalm. We’re a lot alike, a little shy, yet talk nonstop within our travelling minds of authors, Europe, and feelings. We walk into each others thought scenery’s as we listen. She asks questions and makes me think, deep. It seems as we’re two bookends, facing outward, yet full of stories. And if I could write, I’d like her to be the main character.

The doctor draped her lab coat, no, Beneath the Eiffel Tower she spied a flower, At the oval office. She laughed at that fortune cookie and threw it on the counter. We have that in common, too. Old enough to grasp, and young at heart to disbelieve. She makes me real, (most kids do), but, with a light seriousness dove into, as we keep our heads above water. Neither one of us likes chlorine up our noses, and we both want to learn to swim.

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