Age of milk teeth
Age of milk teeth, muck, and
Dancing with softened hues
Of owned, invented, choruses.
Lucky girl has an extra sweet;
Licking her lips in delight,
She chuckles and chortles
With her sticky hands.
Mirth is no myth-
But sweat sticks to their
Slowly denigrated cushioning
Tales and Fiction-ed out life.
"There is no such thing,"
I find myself explaining
Every time; every shattered
Curiousity resounding
In my very ears.
But yet
The tickling, the childish secrecy
Rustles up the sprinkles
Of a smile,
A gentle ushering into the beyond.