A mischievous grimace

Sitting in your blue armchair, you are. Staring lost in front of your cup of cold tea.

“They say there’s a world of games and multicolored candies over there,” I whisper softly in your ear.

A mischievous grimace is drawn on your already consumed face.

“Don’t get too warm, mom, they say they don’t feel cold or hot there”.

You take your little bag with red trimmings clutching it to your chest: “I’ll take this one with me”, of course heart, your little bag with red trimmings: hidden secrets, never conquered. “Calm down, mom, calm down.