I had thought of doing him, a child as a wild thing because I have been working on developing my child characters. I have always liked the children that get themselves in creative trouble. I sort of relate with conflicts of creative differences. What creative child didn't grow up making an art project of tampons and sanitary napkins. I know I am not the only one that had that sort of show and tell.
Love to read your comments.
He sat perched in the fork of a tree in the back yard.
Painted in war paint of lipstick on his arms and cheeks;
He tied his mother's leopard patterned scarf around his waist and over his underwear.
Maybe not one of his best decisions he made today.
Mom loved that scarf, one of her favourites, and there would be a price to pay.
For now he was a wild thing, a thing of wild the wild and in his mind endangered.