Grey lifts to chatter.I tiptoe, hover, listening in,bewildered by verbiage,maze of fanciful descriptorsentirely out of context,challenged to even begin imaginingcontext for your best ruffian argot.Where are you inside your pillow fort?I wish I could go there.But you recognizedespite my languid protestthat adult concerns counterbalanceyour bright menagerie of wordswith which to play I am no longer invited.Instead, it is my privilege to witnessfrom a short distance--
#14 of 30 in April! Sharing on The Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden. Sigh!