I am your mermaid Tangled but blissful

When I grow older, I want a child. And I know what he will look like. He will be my little boy, dark Caribbean skin, glowing from within. He will have long kinky brown hair, that I will back-comb for hours until they form fuzzy swaying caterpillar dreadlocks, that hang to his shoulders. And he will have dark, glowering eyes, and a round, button nose, that I will rub in greeting. His dark wide lips will smile slowly, revealing happy gapped teeth. He will have the most perfect toes and fingers, that are continually filling pockets with the treasures of the earth. 

I will teach him to make music, so he can bring emotions into the air, and then my wild little child will run, screaming off into our backyard. I will smile and make cinnamon cookies, and when I'm done, I'll go looking for him, and all I'll hear is the throat songs he will have left trailing behind himself for me. The trail will lead me through a hole in our fence, and into the woods, into the thickest part. And I will be standing there, with a bag of warm cookies, and I will look up, and there he will be, his naked brown body swinging from the rough bark, his miniature clothes piled over the roots at the bottom of the tree. He will sing a taunting monkey song to me, and climb higher. So, barefoot, I will climb myself up up up until I reach him, and we will find the biggest branch there and I will lie upon it on my back, and he will curl up on my stomach, and we will fall asleep, naked monkeys high up on a naked tree bough. 

When the night tickles us awake, his eyes will open, luminescent beacons attached to a body with grasping fingers that pull me down and forwards, back to home, where he will steal the bag of cookies from my open palms and run off to my bed, to warm it for me, and when I come back after retrieving our clothes, he will have eaten all the cookies but one, for me, and there will be crumbs in his hair. I will sing a little song beneath my breath, until it swells larger and larger, and he will get up and dance to it, his little arms akimbo, his hair reaching up and outwards, and he will spin and spin and spin until his eyes will close mid spin, and I will pick up his soft skinny body and deposit him beneath warm patchwork covers. That is what will happen when I grow older.

Title Quote: Elysian Fields, Mermaid