love is what happens before you know somepony better
before you know why you shouldn't
ever feel that way about anypony
and the Sun

grandmother's skirt is a purple streak
my mane is fire spilled on the floor
above me
shadows and dust are the stars of the house
i reach out
grasping anywhere
horn dull without magic

talking about canterlot
where the Sun lives
and Her school is a jewel
to the crown of Equestria
i want to be a ruby there
in Her golden school

grandmother is making lunch
while i pretend to be a rug
wanting the stove's warmth
and her signature there,
bits for the used spellbook store,
train fare too,
please?

i am told to go read the books i already have
(for the forty seventh time)
study those until the familiar words bleed from the worn pages
(all over again)
scurry somewhere else
before grandmother bothers to say:

"i love you, sunnybun."

love is what happens before somepony forgets you