Upon the theme of a being a roof walker

roof top 1

If I were a roof walker, I could no longer be afraid of heights. I would have to leave my fears on the ground and not think about the lofty heights to which I aspired.

 

My feet would be clad, not in the hefty boots of ramblers and mountain climbers, but soft slippers in the like of ballet dancers and trapeze artists. I would wear black; black leggings, black waistcoat, but my vest would be black and white stripe, my top hat of black rabbit fur.

 

Upon the moonlit hours I would assail the rooftops, coming face to face with the gargoyles of years past. The children in their beds would hear my pitter patter across the tiles, the sheets of tin, along the drain pipes, the heavens above; but they would rest peacefully in their beds for they would know that only good adventures were afoot. And at any moment, I might climb through their open windows, peter pan like to whisk them into the fun. Just wait, just wait…

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