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paging the wonderful Legend but welcoming anyone to barge in || poem referenced: Other Things, If Not More Urgent Things By Natalie Shapero

she'd never seen the pyramids before,
had once heard on a TV about a group of 5 men having to travel to egypt to battle a god,
but all pancakes remembered was the human talking about the eccentric and fruity poses the men made,
and she enjoyed hearing their laughter!

she wondered if this place smoldered in the warm summers,
of course, pancakes' coldest winter was actually a summer in san francisco,
she can still hear the car horns in the distance if she says enough curse words and thinks of dim sum,
much like listening to a sea shell to hear the ocean.

but maybe it would just be some soft summer under these trees.

"How to get close without going over." pancakes had said this, funnily enough, as she went over the rocks and mountains.
"How to feign lust for whatever’s on offer. How the largest possible quantity of anything is a lifetime."

"A lifetime of oat bran." she once heard a white bearded man loathe of it to his snow crowned wife one day.
and she gave him a knowing smile, knowing they were old, knowing they had lived well.
pancakes had wondered of what that love looked while young,
versus how it looked now, old, wrinkled, and yet still just as beautiful and timeless.
like preserved flowers in resin, worth a lifetime of memories.

"A lifetime of timing belts. A lifetime of saying, sure, 'why not,
i’m only on earth x number of years, and not knowing what to make x.'"

pancakes did not have years, no butterfly would.
but it was that fact itself that made pancakes breath in the morning air,
and rise over these lands,
wondering all the same.

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oop i have NO DIRECTION clearly so apologies for double tags and messes i'm making >.<

Friend, An echo.

Did Death laugh in knowingness?
She could feel his breath and smell his rot on the sunset flutter.
They knew one another well.
A memory flew to her from Death’s hand.

Upon the edge of a scaled pond, wrapped in vines of serpents. Legend had stood above Death’s ambassadors and made peace with being a riot.

And that day, it had been the whispering song of a butterflies wing chatter coaxing her on to kill Seth.
Now she had lost everything and anything which could have ever been gained.
A nothingness of an imp.
But her friend was there.

Come to see me in another lifetime? A cheshire smile, wrong and lovely. But warm.