XXIV. The Ethics of Play (Our Kingdom of Sugar & Sand).

I built a fine kingdom from sugar and sand,

With a cloverleaf crown and a mudpie in hand.

You be the dragon, the moon, or the mop:

We’ll fly on a broom 'til the sky tells us stop!

We’ll bounce into bookshops on peppermint toes,

And read all the pages that nobody knows.

We’ll paint with our fingers and speak without shame,

Rename all the weekdays,

no two are the same.

We’ll skip every morning that starts with a frown,

Chalk rules on the sidewalk, then rinse every noun.

You wear your armor, or tie, or a crown,

I’ll wear my

pink,

swirly,

magical gown.

We’ll mail all our dreams to a worm in a hat,

(He answers on Whimsday, and that’s simply that.)

There’s a library floating on bubbles and strings,

It carries the books that remember lost things.

You’ll find your old giggle, your glitter, your dare,

The dream where you flew, and the socks that weren’t there.

We’ll balance on curbs like tightrope trapeze,

And trade solemn pacts in the shade of the trees.

We’ll tiptoe through gardens where clocks never tick,

Where questions grow wild and the answers grow thick.

The sky there is candy and laughs when you sneeze,

And the worms give advice if you ask them with ease.

We’ll climb up the ladders that no one can see,

Where stars hang on strings and the moon pours out tea.

We’ll trade pocket lint for a ship made of bark,

And sail past the corners where grown-ups go dark.

We’ll vote by applause, not by suit or renown,

Play mayor for moments in invisible towns.

Whisper to puddles and hear what they say,

And dine with the beetles who toast with sorbet.

And when someone scolds us for wasting the day,

Trade them a marble and just float away.

You’ll call it a phase, or a dream, or delay—

But I’ve seen the glint in a very old gaze...

You might not recall what play used to mean,

But maybe, just maybe, you’ll join our routine.

So if it still stirs where the wonder once slept,

There’s only one rule:

All we say is yes.

For what it’s worth,

-Charlene Iris

One thought at a time.

One truth at a time. 

Because some epiphanies stay with you.