I slept all day
Ample despondent tufts of cotton wept throughout the morning, tainting the sky with their morose, gossamer veneer. Blankets of grays and blues swirled like paint between the cotton, viscous thickets of wind sweeping across the ground. Weak lime blades were asphyxiated in the dew and oncoming downpour, fraught to break free from the wild gusts of hurricane.

I woke with distaste
Bright spinning circles twirled above heads, protesting the weather with vigorous stamina. Faint giggles were lost in the sounds of flood as rubber boots squeaked through ocean-like puddles. Beads of perspiration danced around roofs, trees, pedestrians. Buckets collected the misled droplets, accumulated water staining the cement.

And I railed, and I raved
Tall oak, possibly mahogany, arched up infinitely; sheer glass encasing within, exterior a barricade from the outside world – white with plaster. Against the glass appeared the virtually invisible reflection of a young face, while through it appeared the watering landscape.

That the difference between
Soft brown hair combed forwards atop the young, rosy head; large brown eyes blinking silently into focus. Small, sausage-like fingers stroked relentlessly against the glass, creating miniature masterpieces in the water vapor. Thin lips pressed together in a crooked grin, leaning back to marvel at his work with unbounded admiration.

The sprout and the bean
The pitter-patter against the sill was enough to lull the young boy to daydreams, his round body resting against the nook where he sat. A light knock at the door, but he didn’t turn – his eyes were fixed on the drawing, the rain, the tall trees lining the drive. A scene fit for a prince.

Is a golden ring
In stepped a young woman, no more than 27 years of age, with honey hair pulled loose into a braid. She stepped quietly to kneel beside the boy, laying a soft kiss against his forehead. Pale blue eyes followed the child’s sight out through the window, and a warm smile enveloped her lips.

It is a twisted string
“Did you draw this?”
He paused before answering, grin returning. “Yes.”
Their voices were almost whispers, hushed by the storm. “It’s very pretty. You’re quite the artist.”
He turned his face, now, eyes bright with pride. “Really?”
“Yes.”
A pleasant smile followed by a tight embrace was his response.

And you can ask the counselor
“I have something for you,” the young boy said softly, sliding off his throne and waddling to a near wooden drawer. “It was supposed to be for later, but I want you to have it now.” He pulled out a rather wrinkled paper bag, cradling it in his arms as he brought it back to the nook, seating himself once more and handing her the bag with a smile.

And you can ask the king
“Oh, you didn’t have to do this,” she whispered in response, seating herself comfortably on the dull beige carpet and taking the bag in her arms.
“Yes I did, this is the anniversary, remember?”
“Of course I remember.” She looked down at the bag dotingly, opening it slowly to reveal a small clay figurine, sculpted by the hands of a child.

And they'll say the same thing
“It’s…” the young woman paused, holding it in her lap as she looked up to the boy. He was studying her face eagerly, possibly hoping for enthusiasm. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift.” Acceptable answers, apparently, for he grinned broadly and nodded.
“I knew you’d like it.”

And it's a funny thing
“Sometimes,” the woman began, adjusting the hem of her pale yellow dress as a sort of fidget. “Sometimes I wonder if they worry.”
The boy’s eyebrows knitted together slightly, “Who?”
She paused, looking up at him with wide, pleasant eyes. “You mean you don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
The woman smiled, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek and patting through his hair affectionately. “You’re happy here, right?”
He nodded contentedly, “Of course.”

Should we go outside?
Should we go outside?
“This is a better home for you, anyway. They didn’t care about you like I do.”
“Who?”
She didn’t answer. “I may not be blood-related, but I might as well be. You’re such a beautiful child. No, you’re…you’re /my/ beautiful child, right?”
He seemed a bit dazed, but he nodded.

Should we break some bread?
Are y'interested?
“That’s my little prince; it’s better here. I need you here. It was so lonely before I had you. Your parents won’t miss you too much, I’m sure.”
“Parents? What’s that?”
“…Nothing. I’m your family, remember?”
“Yes.”
She paused, glancing outside once more. “Follow me, bring your jacket.”

The young boy stood, hurrying his body to reach for his yellow slicker and umbrella before following the young kidnapper outside. She opened the small door in the corner of the near empty room, letting the rain cool her face. “Come on, prince.”

She smiled sweetly towards him, and he followed her every movement as they wandered outside. Hopping on the small stepping stones, splashing in the puddles, spinning in the rain – they’re laughter echoed from tree to tree, twirling endlessly into the thick atmosphere, up to the clouds themselves. It was better this way.

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Author's Note: Written on a rainy day with the help of the song: 'Sprout and the Bean,' by Joanna Newsom. Peaceful song, peaceful story, to me at least.