The late
morning sun calls out to crickets that answer back in constant beats. We run down paths and pavements kicking dusty
rocks behind our trails. A white
butterfly flutters away from surprise.
The pool glistens, shimmering like liquid crystals. Of all his jewels, this is my favorite. We are not allowed in but the water is
refreshing and cool for our thirsty eyes.
Not like the hot baths guarded by rows of cold columns and stone statue
soldiers. He is coming soon and my
mother shoos us away. We stumble down
the stairs of grass as fast as water falls off fountains. Our high pitched laughter lost among the
giggles and gurgles of the baby streams while the bottom ditch rumbles and
bubbles on as old uncles do. We
are little invisible children, hiding behind the murky reflections of each
dripping droplets, never wanting to be found.
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