Right now, pitched forward on toddler feet
this red is as real as the poppies that breach
the cracks in the street.
She still believes she could pocket the sun
if she could reach to the sky;
still believes she can dive for pearls
between sheets tucked-tight;
still meets for tea with sea-creatures and elves
who live in the eaves.
And at night, when she sleeps
her dreams are not distinct from the day.
Words don't exist, but still she knows:
Momentum, perception, colour and light
One day she will ask
But right now, these swirls are as real
as whole fields of poppies
in which she can whirl and dive.
Just now, before words begin to sift
the fairy dust from the concrete.
this red is as real as the poppies that breach
the cracks in the street.
She still believes she could pocket the sun
if she could reach to the sky;
still believes she can dive for pearls
between sheets tucked-tight;
still meets for tea with sea-creatures and elves
who live in the eaves.
And at night, when she sleeps
her dreams are not distinct from the day.
Words don't exist, but still she knows:
Momentum, perception, colour and light
One day she will ask
But right now, these swirls are as real
as whole fields of poppies
in which she can whirl and dive.
Just now, before words begin to sift
the fairy dust from the concrete.