Broken-midnights

Let's watch the trees untie the unbounded light flowing down through this broken bramble that washes across with the yellow light of morn. Let us stay tucked away in the water blue cover of the undergrowth. Here where the only noise is the echo of lost ghosts and the clamber of small feet. I'm not afraid of this desolate place. Of the monsters thick breath that sits behind our tree. It'll be late when I remember that our little home; in it's small cylindrical hut-like shape; has a kettle on the stove and some dried herbs too close to be safe. What would happen if something slipped, and the house burnt to the floor of the sheltered world w