03-22-2017, 02:39 PM
knight
do not unsheathe me
without reason
do not wield me without valor
without reason
do not wield me without valor
Two small, green eyes watch a butterfly drift peacefully among the dandelions. It kisses them, or he thinks they do, that's what he would tell others if asked. Knight knows what kisses are, his Mother placed them ever so softly against the twirl of a cowlick on his brow. Her dark lips could not be missed against the bright white star that stretched beneath his wine colored forelock.
That's what the butterfly was doing too, racing from bloom to bloom, giving kisses to the flowers as it crawled to their centers.
It was orange, like when the sun was rising over the horizon, shooing away the stars to make room. The edges were black, spotted with tiny dots and Knight thought it was pretty, but not as pretty as Mother.
No one was pretty like Mother.
He was so excited when she said he could go play. He quickly ran off on spindly long legs before she could change her mind, trying his best to race there. Knight fell twice, tumbling in the green grass but it was not enough to upset him. Instead he rose up, shook himself off and tried again, determined to get it right. Should he fall a thousand times he would persist, maybe that was hard headed, maybe it was perseverance- his father shining through.
Father was a great man, Mother said they were named by him, special and one of a kind. Knight believed her, he wished her to tell him again and again, he was too little to know how much it might hurt her to do so. What he did know was that he wanted to be like that man, strong and loyal. Sometimes he tried to imagine what he might have looked like, in person, tried to picture his face because he was sure it was kind. He knew what his eyes were like, the same as his own, soft and green, like pebbles by the river.
He bent his tiny head to sniff at the little, orange butterfly, laughing as it fluttered away and began the chase anew.
That's what the butterfly was doing too, racing from bloom to bloom, giving kisses to the flowers as it crawled to their centers.
It was orange, like when the sun was rising over the horizon, shooing away the stars to make room. The edges were black, spotted with tiny dots and Knight thought it was pretty, but not as pretty as Mother.
No one was pretty like Mother.
He was so excited when she said he could go play. He quickly ran off on spindly long legs before she could change her mind, trying his best to race there. Knight fell twice, tumbling in the green grass but it was not enough to upset him. Instead he rose up, shook himself off and tried again, determined to get it right. Should he fall a thousand times he would persist, maybe that was hard headed, maybe it was perseverance- his father shining through.
Father was a great man, Mother said they were named by him, special and one of a kind. Knight believed her, he wished her to tell him again and again, he was too little to know how much it might hurt her to do so. What he did know was that he wanted to be like that man, strong and loyal. Sometimes he tried to imagine what he might have looked like, in person, tried to picture his face because he was sure it was kind. He knew what his eyes were like, the same as his own, soft and green, like pebbles by the river.
He bent his tiny head to sniff at the little, orange butterfly, laughing as it fluttered away and began the chase anew.
killdare x malis
html by call