Outside Listening In

Grey lifts to chatter.

I tiptoe, hover, listening in,

bewildered by verbiage,

maze of fanciful descriptors

entirely out of context,

challenged to even begin imagining

context for your best ruffian argot.

Where are you inside your pillow fort?

I wish I could go there.

But you recognize

despite my languid protest

that adult concerns counterbalance

your bright menagerie of words

with which to play I am no longer invited.

Instead, it is my privilege to witness

from a short distance--

#14 of 30 in April! Sharing on The Tuesday Platform in the Imaginary Garden. Sigh!