Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
“Rude!” She proclaimed over another juncture of laughter; as if they weren’t the overbearing ones coming within the amphibian’s home and terrorizing them with incredibly stupefying antics. Melita didn’t want the frogs to keep their secrets; craving them to be unwound, unfurled, through the haze of ridiculousness, where they could wander and meander behind strokes of fortune and so-called witches. She yearned for the tall tales and the silly fables, for something else other than the bizarre multitudes back home.
Goofy smiles matched and adorned; though hers was likely more faceted into absolute devilry and mischief. At the call, at the signal, she released hers too, and launched after its swift, fast movements, diving headlong into the muck’s fathoms without a second thought. Immersed immediately until it was up to her shoulders, laughing all the way, tracing until she simply couldn’t anymore, winding along the outer banks. “How’d you do?" She called over, ignoring Fangorn’s consistently shaking head.
Goofy smiles matched and adorned; though hers was likely more faceted into absolute devilry and mischief. At the call, at the signal, she released hers too, and launched after its swift, fast movements, diving headlong into the muck’s fathoms without a second thought. Immersed immediately until it was up to her shoulders, laughing all the way, tracing until she simply couldn’t anymore, winding along the outer banks. “How’d you do?" She called over, ignoring Fangorn’s consistently shaking head.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
