Whimsy--I invite you back into my life. Let me be prone to sudden impulses, urges, fancies. Let me wear wings where bones used to be--feathers creeping in through the sensible skin stretched over my shoulderblades.
Whimsy--come, and we'll visit this long, hot Summer afternoon. I'll give you chilled mint tea under the branches of a stately oak...nearby the fat honeybees will dip in and out of my lavender beds--drunk with the sultry scent of it as I am. We'll wear straw hats with flowers threaded through the brims...we'll put our feet up on red satin pillows and DREAM our dreams.
Whimsy--I know we don't talk like we once talked. But, I have noticed you in my daughter's wild stories--I've sneaked peeks at you over my son's golden-crowned head--I've caught sight of your dappled hide between my baby's peals of laughter.
Let me be silly and impractical and ALIVE again. I have missed you in the soft broken staccato of my misplaced heart.