Pretend you are the golden child. Reach out your hand for the goblet; taste the love and pleasure that the chosen ones drink; lean back in your chair of velvet; dance to the harp of all the songs they wrote for you; and rest your head on the soft pillow of adulation to dream of the child you were, the one staring in the window at the banquet.
In your dream you will be cold; and though you pull your blanket around you, you will never find warmth. Hunger will be a crow in your belly with your heart in its beak.
The dream will last a lifetime. When you awake, pretend you are still the golden child you saw inside the window.
year-struck 
Again you break my heart.
And that poor crow.
Thanks for reading, RAB. I thought it was a good picture of a crow.
Macabre.
I hope not too much.
I have nominated you for the One Lovely Blogger award and the Versatile Blogger award, just in case you wanted to know 😀
Thank you so much. I have decided not to participate in more awards, even though I feel honored by your nomination.
You are most welcome, have a lovely day!
Are you awake or dreaming? You have become the golden child.
If writing is dreaming on paper, I’m not sure if I am awake or dreaming.
This line amazes me: Hunger will be a crow in your belly with your heart in its beak. There is a rawness in the tone of this piece that I love. Well done.
Thank you, Courtenay. Some days are rawer than others.
They are, aren’t they? I think it has something to do with August. August feels raw to me, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I hope. : )
to know what it is to be a golden child is an alien idea
this is haunting, and echoes a deep sadness, and yet, it also simply paints a picture.
very nicely done … as is often the case, what you don’t say is as important as what you do
p.s. I recently set my blog to PRIVATE. If you have not received an invitation to view my blog, you can send an email to ntexas99 at yahoo dot com, and I’ll send an invitation.. thx
As you know, there are so many different kinds of hunger.
Thanks for the invite; I look forward to reading your work again.
Haunting words, hauntingly beautiful…
Thanks, Patricia.
this is a hard one
I think so, too.
Wow that’s haunting – I mean that in a very good way.
I appreciate your comment, JAA.
“It’s life’s illusions I recall. I really don’t know life, at all” From the song “Both Sides Now” written by Joni MItchell and sung beautifully by Judy Collins, came immediately to mind, from your superb post. Very nice indeed.
I’m glad you liked this piece of writing.
As usual
Your poem makes me feel lonely in a crowd, and my dad has names for crows which cannot be repeated…
I have often felt my loneliest in a crowd of people. Never in a crowd of crows.