Sun Mote Copse Love me like you love the sun

the shadow watched; but the girl soaked, she floated, and she was content enough with herself that she failed to notice.

the water was cold. she went down for another dip, slimming every angle of her body upon the rise.
as drops drew along the nape of her neck, or caught at the clavicle, or even stole starlight to frame her face, satsu was not aware.

she thought of her mother; quietly, she began to murmur to herself. keeping tempo as she washed.
shirokane mo
kugane mo tama mo?
nanisemu ni
masareru takara
koni shikame yamo. . .

a sigh; satsu drifts in the memory of this spoken tanka which, until now, had only ever been a lullaby from mother to daughter.