My Playful Heart Thimblewit and Tippy Canoe 2007

     Though it made her sad, she could not resist going through the things she found in a chest.

A hand written poem took away her breath.

“They took you to the “leads” for possessing books of magic, and plotting against the state

with the poems that flowed from your quill. You were given a cell to await your inquisition.

Made to sleep on a hard wooden floor inspired you to take a bolt from your door hinge and to sharpen it.

With a bad cough , black rage and despair you burrowed through those boards. But to your

dismay liberty yielded to brick below. Now any other would have resigned themselves to

being a prisoner. Cleverly you began dissolving the mortar with the vinegar that had come

with your meals. Misfortune again as they switched your cell to one with a view of all of

Venice.

Through a stone wall we met and determined our pact. Passed notes between cells

written in wine on cloth napkins. The guards didn’t see you smuggle your bolt over to me.

One however did notice you pass me a fistful of macaroni. Behind a painting I bored a hole through our

wall, than youboosted me up to the Garrett where I let my hand down. We climbed into the inquisitor’s

room, but it must have been a holiday for no one was there.

You proudly strode into the confiscation closet. Emerged adorned in the lace ruffed shirt

that they had taken away. You drew your silk stalkings high and we hid outside waiting for

the gates to open. My heart skipped beats as we walked passed the guard, as they

searched a new captive we slipped through the arch like we owned the place.

Rejoicing we embraced in the street. I knelt and kissed the ground than I watched you

board a Gondola and I whispered a wish to the wind to again merge our paths somehow.

Somehow , my playful heart.