I am sucker for Photo Challenges.  These tiny pieces of my life, frozen in time, seem to rustle something deep within my spirit.  The simple picture below does just that.

Handkerchief

This is leg garbed denim.

Torn and tattered and smudged with the earth.

Tied off with a hanky that has no rhyme or reason, no fad it seeks to please, an effortless chichi manifesto crooning ‘I am here, this is me.’

It is lucid and resolute, ready to soar.

It belongs to a girl arrayed in felicity.

Flawless and chaste, uncorrupted by the woes of the world.

Tied off with a bandana bold, who reasons in rhyme, seeking her own whimsy, effortlessly humming an intrinsic melody as she floats along.

She is simply innocence in its purest form.

I am that child’s mother, blanketed in love.

Another tattered and tainted soul in the complexity of creation.

I yearn to wrap her rhymes in a handkerchief, sheltering them from the world’s sway – holding her refrain sacred and impervious forever.

It’s a simple compulsion I cannot ignore.