. . . I'd hole up in the castle, lonely and forlorn, an overworked and underappreciated princess, pining for my prince to come, ready for his white horse to prance and gallop on the horizon, eager for his handsome frame to climb the trellis and rescue me from this life of captivity.
. . . I'd sail the oceans of the world, bobbing and floating towards new adventures, the swathy spray of sea-mist only splashing my soul with delight and anticipation, the waves crashing down any barriers to freedom.
. . . I'd amble over lush hills speckled with wildflowers of all hues, picking and choosing the most delightful wedding bouquet ever to be hopefully clasped between a radiant bride's dainty hands, practicing my slow and noble gait down the aisle, eyes aglow, firmly locked on the husband of my dreams.
. . . I'd sing in all my hereditary tone-deafness, the silliest and lightest of songs wafting ceaselessly from the depths of my heart, the clouds my audience, the trees my choir, my voice running the staircases of octaves and notes endlessly and freely.
. . . I'd leap and run and dance, exuberantly and passionately, arms and legs flowing and flailing, the rhythm and energy of my body only surpassed by the radiance of my smile.
. . . I'd do all this and more- I'd get along with my sister, clean my room, stop whining, listen to Mom and Dad, eat my dinner even the green yucky vegetables, do my chores without complaining, take out the trash, turn off the lights- if only, only . . . it stopped raining.
. . . I'd sail the oceans of the world, bobbing and floating towards new adventures, the swathy spray of sea-mist only splashing my soul with delight and anticipation, the waves crashing down any barriers to freedom.
. . . I'd amble over lush hills speckled with wildflowers of all hues, picking and choosing the most delightful wedding bouquet ever to be hopefully clasped between a radiant bride's dainty hands, practicing my slow and noble gait down the aisle, eyes aglow, firmly locked on the husband of my dreams.
. . . I'd sing in all my hereditary tone-deafness, the silliest and lightest of songs wafting ceaselessly from the depths of my heart, the clouds my audience, the trees my choir, my voice running the staircases of octaves and notes endlessly and freely.
. . . I'd leap and run and dance, exuberantly and passionately, arms and legs flowing and flailing, the rhythm and energy of my body only surpassed by the radiance of my smile.
. . . I'd do all this and more- I'd get along with my sister, clean my room, stop whining, listen to Mom and Dad, eat my dinner even the green yucky vegetables, do my chores without complaining, take out the trash, turn off the lights- if only, only . . . it stopped raining.
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