Beginning to “Mr. Limelight in my pocket”
I’ve opened the tiny box stowed sedulously in my pocket- containing a bit of your precious limelight- perhaps too many times now without opportunity to replenish it, alas your light is a fading memory from which I’m showered in flickering strobe effects. I….. want….. to be solid and so I’ve come to accept that I must take the last bit of limelight I own and weave you into this story- then close it up in this book- lay it to rest as a fond remember. And in quiet times of whispy solitude under shimmering spring green rustling trees,i will conjure you from the centered darkness of my brain, pluck you out for sweet -but dwarven- replicas, to lightly flavor my present moment- to play the flint sparking my heart. At the very least giving example to what I should expect in a more consistent form to fuel the fiery passion in a well built love. And so here it is, may it be spoken- the story of precious limelight.