Tell me your remembories of childhood. Of sun-diamond dappled, a warm sea hug and welcoming embrace of shore?
Those are not my memories.
Can you not feel the rocking cradle of seaweed, protecting you from rip-tide and summer storm?
I was rocked by the wind in a cradle of tree boughs.
Toes in sand slipping by?
My toes ne’er touched the ground.
Horizon smudged by fog and breakers? Dancing under noon-bright skies; lilting songs of shipwrecks and sirens.
I danced high in a leafy canopy. I sang with the birds. I whispered with the zephyrs. Moon-clad, I howled with wolves.
Diving deep into the kelp gardens, til lungs burned for want of air. Surfacing, hair o’er spreading like halo on the undulating sea. Remember, remember, remember . . .
Eating wolfberries, juice staining chin and fingers blood-red.
No, those are not YOUR memories. They are mine; please return them to me.
for mlmm sunday writing prompt: five by five.
Pick a Mythological Creature
Pick an Activity
Pick a Fruit
Pick a Time of Life
Pick a Concern
Money and/or Work
The State of the World
image: 2 nymphs, JW Waterhouse