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Maps of the Sky to study
In the summer days of youth when the sky was high and the weight of the world was light on their shoulders, he would put words in her mouth and find as many different ways to change the taste of them with his lips as he could.
Angry that he wasted time to look through the chartreuse canopy covered branches in the sky for the nest it fell out of , he very carefully, in case it was cracked , scooped the egg shell up by rolling it in slow small little skoots of his right hand into the palm of his left. Living only if they can be held close enough to a hear a human heart, almost every fairy is raised by a musician or poet, who keeping a gentle tapping on the fairy's egg to nurture it , an applause to keep her feet off of the ground ...
Everyday he attempted to patiently coax her out of her shell with ideas to play Eggs-aminated everything she'd say and do , in the cold night her words hung in the air in little clouds-waiting for him to figure them out. he was emptying her to share with him everything she had inside. inviting inspiration feeding her word and watching her expression.
Since fairies are able to fly safe with birds and dive deep into the ocean inherent , his gentle tappings that had once been an all nurturing nature while still in her shell, began to be little nudgeing shoves , encouraging the air under her wings to leave the nest . returned at night downvoted, disheveled, wings smudged and crumpled from his fingers picking her out pinched wings from playing in the catbox , he was the one that fed her sweet dreams and soothed her bruised little ego to sleep , with maps of the sky to study.
for etouffee/my mentor | 
