MELITA
Something fun, something uplifting, something not dragging them all by the tethers and choking them down, was exactly up the youth’s alley. At the slightest mention of present exchanges, of secret, furtive gifts, the girl and her gourd had rampaged down towards the temple, intending to ensure they were a part of the amusements and diversions. Her own requests and wishes would likely be haphazard at best; generally appeased and appealed towards anything extended her way. What would be truly intriguing was what others were craving or desiring – and how on earth she’d manage to coordinate and put it together. A part of the challenge – and the youth loved a good provocation. She hummed under her breath, making her way towards the bowl – pondering for a few moments, as if the notion of thinking before acting had finally crossed her mind – before writing her name, and a conflagration of wishes, lots of things to choose from, not picky in the slightest. Then she bounded back away, leaving it for others to fill – excited and ebullient for the opportunity. Perhaps it would become a traditional thing, and they had something more to look forward to for years to come.
This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight
