Dearest little you

If you were grown, what would you say to little you? Would you be still et would you still like you for you?

Would you allow the world a color to be blue, pink or green or paisley or maroon?

Would you run briskly bare feet and scream ice cream?

Would you allow all the noises to break down your walls of green?

Would you let the people that made you feel like a bud of non existence define your will to be the queen?

would you look your maman in her face et tell her, tell her how SHE tried to break you down, steal your crown and make you oh so dizzy all around?

would you?
Or would you grab the tail of an unmannered fox,  sit him down et let him watch you manner all his moves.
I would.

I would stand up tall et refrain all from ever hurting me. And I would be sure to eat all the pudding and porridge if I could.
If I were little me.
but I’m not. I’m ill tempered et prude I’ll even be rude if I could to get my point to you.
luckily I’m grown, you are all your own et I’m juste a writer.
well, vit vit, it’s bedtime.

bonsoir,

RS
Ps. Mr fox I have planted a jardin et I’m waiting for you