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I Want To Help (EnglandxMama!Reader) As you tried running to the bus that your two sons were on, you slipped your high-heels off, trying to keep the stuffed bear in your hands. When the bus came to a stop, you stepped inside the door and quickly glanced around for your quiet son, Matthew. When you spotted him, you went up to him, getting wierd glances from the rest of the kids on the bus, "Mattie! You forgot this!" you said, giving him the small white bear and leaning on the seat to keep yourself from falling over.
"Thank you, mama." Mattie said, standing up and giving you a small kiss on the forehead, "Happy Mothers' Day."
You smiled, "Thank you, Mattie." you then turned to find the loudmouth, Alfred, "And you sir," you started, pulling the house keys out of your pocket and handing them to him, "Don't loose these."
He merely rolled his eyes and continued talking to his friends.
You sighed , turning and walking off the bus. When on the sidewalk, you slipped your brown shoes back on and ran your hand through
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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