Brave Enough

The stones in the creek that wobble
ever so slightly when you walk across
them are polished continuously by the
moving water. Looking straight down at
the checkerboard floors of the museum
always made her feel like she was falling,
and the larger than life characters on the
high ceilings didn’t look like they cared
enough to reach down and catch her.
There are piles of dried up eye balls, ears,
and bat wings in his workshop. Whenever
he isn’t sure about what to make next he just starts
grabbing handfuls of things and tosses them
around in a bowl, like a salad, until something
new is forced out of it and into the world.
It is so cold everyone is asleep with their socks
on, and the fountain drinks are stored lazily on
the front porch; gathering layers of frost against
their metal, and keeping watch for anyone brave
enough to try and say hello.

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