The House On Briesch

The silence of the night that is impeccable to the mind of a child spheres a premonition ineffability, which anticipates cognizance. Overt is this world revealed even when she is only three. Through the eyes of a child, verve the spiritual realm. Vivacities each seem to be with recourse. I remember questioning them about who they were. The house on Briesch was a family home. It was built on the corner. The cross-street only went one way. Chirpiness was seen as the children played. There at night, once she was put to bed, was images that came to dwell. They would come to the child who was not asleep to be among an existence via a child’s mental faculties. Through her eyes, they desired imagery. The house on Briesch was a family home cultivated long-ago. Veiled to the spiritual realm, through a child’s eyes, they were seen. Overt is this world revealed. At eleven, she vexed to disclose. She was told that she had wisdom of long-ago. In the wall or on the wall may be better said, they exhibited flexibility. Predominance predetermines everything. All that exist to this veracity was the little girl and a sibling of that physicality at the expense of the mental, spiritual, and social acumen. The house on Briesch Street is a child’s first home. The chimes are still on the front porch. _________________________________________________| Written August 31, 2015!