I pretend to close my eyes;
I pretend I'm burning bright.
I pretend I'm burning bright.
Oh, I do not like this. I do not like this one bit. The earth shook, and it ate my home, and I can’t find Daddy Romek, and my fire is all gone. I’m so cold without it, even far away from the ice and snow of the Tundra. Even now that spring is starting to melt the snow and make the green things grow again. Good thing, too, because I’m finally just big enough that I don’t need milk anymore, and it’d be bad if I did. Since I’m all on my own again.
I thought that’d never happen again, once Daddy Romek found me and brought me home with him. That I’d never be lost and alone, or wandering around with nowhere to go and no one to cuddle with or play with or keep me warm. Oh, especially that. The fire always did it for me before, keeping me warm even when the cold should have set alllll the way into my bones.
Now even standing in the sunlight I feel cold.
I just want to go home. But home is gone, maybe forever and ever. So I wander through the forest again, aimless and dejected. My head hangs low to the ground, letting the red of my forelock fall over my face and flicker in the edge of my vision like the fire used to do, and I tell myself that it’s almost the same. Even though it’s really, really not.
Heaving a great big sigh, I keep plodding along. Maybe if I walk long enough or far enough, I’ll find my daddy again. Or make a nice warm new friend. That’d be good too, I guess.
I thought that’d never happen again, once Daddy Romek found me and brought me home with him. That I’d never be lost and alone, or wandering around with nowhere to go and no one to cuddle with or play with or keep me warm. Oh, especially that. The fire always did it for me before, keeping me warm even when the cold should have set alllll the way into my bones.
Now even standing in the sunlight I feel cold.
I just want to go home. But home is gone, maybe forever and ever. So I wander through the forest again, aimless and dejected. My head hangs low to the ground, letting the red of my forelock fall over my face and flicker in the edge of my vision like the fire used to do, and I tell myself that it’s almost the same. Even though it’s really, really not.
Heaving a great big sigh, I keep plodding along. Maybe if I walk long enough or far enough, I’ll find my daddy again. Or make a nice warm new friend. That’d be good too, I guess.
Lilitha