“I’m the pump!” She declared.
Closet filled with her uniforms.

Grabbing a handful, she threw them on the bed.
A loud and punctuated door slam leaving an undisputable message behind.

Still she took pop’s away.
The weathered cream by his bed remained unchanged for decades.
Couldn’t deter his travel, though.
Distant lands on the wings of Angels.
Surely a magical world we could only imagine.

Time passed, and mine severed as well.
Little miss laughed – claimed it was self imposed destiny.
I wasn’t amused.
I journeyed too but not with Angels.
I had Khaleesi’s dragons. Hah!
And lands so distant, no one would find.
All mine.
Free will beyond castration.
Expanding above our cerebral mountain.
Or perhaps a valley of darkness?
But always welcome. Like papa.
Return of the prodigal apple.
Living too, beyond the veil.