Fights, crickets and birds

Dad and mum are at it again

At times like this I’d run far away until I no longer feel am the one to blame

There are days I feel lost as they fight themselves again and again

Only then do I let the magical things into my little game

The game I play when I am far away, away from strife, away from loss and what some have come to call the cross

The cross of what? I ask myself as I trudge across miles of empty space deep in thought

Then do the multicolored birds come

They sing, speaking in words I cannot comprehend0

Words that take me high and do not allow me to descend

Words that make me miss the weekend when dad and mum will shout until my skin tingles and I hear the neighbors say these people are wicked

It embarrasses me __ but what else could this be likened

To

The words ‘good grief’ never felt so apt and true.

While I navigate the heavens filled with magic and I no longer hear the fights and the abuse. I know in my heart I’ve found what the heavens know is true…. And that’s you.

Peace, tranquility and the abundance owned by little but a few.