The cell

Draw a circle around it
Transposition it back to a small child

The time machine like a magic carpet ride back
Takes a minute

And there you are glossing over the time of all possibilities

Of laughter and joy

And then learned to form cells
That were closed with similar ones

Some fusing pointilistically some remained like a and uneffected , some kind of mixed with other solitary formed , foamed ,

And large aggregates were there looking like mountops and below green sunlit valleys

Some reminded of some passing face.

The sewn up all that into another cell, put into a suitcase and transported to another place in time that to zipped up so that ready at a moments notice, can get back in the air and fly away.

Oh learn the lesson of the wounded little bird, in your cell.

Never leave her behind for tears of regret comes last.

Regardless her Angeles blur period of blue.

Ongoing saga