I tried so hard to get my bunching
pink tightsto stay on 'til
Mommy came in my room,
and fixed 'em up.
Icouldn't find my size-three ballet shoes; the ones
the color ofcotton candy sold next to the big
ferris wheel at thecarnival,
the ferris wheel I couldn't go on,
'cause I didn't reachthe clown's tummy.
Daddy finally found the shoes
next to my Barbiecollection.

I went into the bathroom.
Mommy put blush on mycheeks
the color of my favorite crayon,
the one I drew flowers andhearts with.
It made me feel like a princess
until my brother camein,
screaming to hurry up
'cause he had to pee.
Mommy placedfloppy bunny ears
on top of my crimped pigtails;
my soft tail wasbushy,
like the hair on top of cousin Andy's head
and just the wayI liked it.

Nervous inside,
I ran around the house,
tripping over my feet and making tiny
holes in the pinktights.
Mommy yelled for me to sit down,
so I sat.
My feetdangled from the couch and
I bounced up and down,
tailwiggling,
ears flapping,
pretending to be a real bunny,
not thekind that dances on a big scary stage
for mommies, daddies andgrandparents
Not the kind on the box of munchies
forbreakfast,
but the kind that hops through the forest,
to nibble oncarrots and hide the yellow and green
eggs on Easter: a bunny thatmakes everyone smile,
a bunny that kicks grass in its path andhops
inside Grandma's flower garden
on a day when birdieschirp,
and all the little flies buzz past my ears.

by Beth L.,New City, NY