oh huckleberry,
we are miles apart, me swimming knee deep in shrimp water where the sun’s too bright while you are in the mountains blowing heart smoke rings holdin hands with your papa. and now i’m waking up every morning and not thinking about how bad things have been because we’re having marmalade mondays and treacle tart tuesdays, and we haven’t got time to be unhappy. i don’t know if i told you but i adore sorrows, and laundry, and her gingerbread-houses. and i adore sitting on the front porch, watching the day fade into night, and back into day again.and i adore the song we listen to about the bearded barley, the milky twilight, the moonlit floor, the broken tree-house and the dancing fireflies. i do, i do. i really do.and i don’t mind if i only have a handful of people who care about me, because they love me, and they hold me, and they sigh in the morning time, and i feel good things because of them. i just hope they feel good things too, because after all, i’m only a girl with ice-cream and jelly lungs and i forget about gravity and i’m ready and waiting with my mittens for mr. jack frost but i won’t stop doing the noodle dance or shooting the moon with papa’s chimney smoke, and ill never stop missing you when you’re away.
i hope you remember to leave the milk out for santa and the reindeer. if we were home together we would lap the milk up together beneath our broken christmas trees. i hope santa makes the new year come faster cause without you i don’t have the shine in my hair.
i love you huckleberry.
your honey-combed haired,
bambi
.
