She often runs away
with her imagination
creeping in the night
with letters and words
in dark cloaks
running in circles
around her mind
revealing themselves as
she gets older
she is smart
not someone you call
somebody else
she counts her fingers
silently putting together
phrases and sentences
with tearing them
apart
she loves to write down
those letters in cloaks
making them into the
wind
or willow whispers
she used that word
what is it again?
impede?
tap
tap
tap tat tap
tatataptaptap
sometimes rapid
sometimes painfully
dawdling sluggish
she is beautiful
she makes beautiful
things
notes, pastel portraits,
poems, pretty smiles
what is impede?
to prolong or hold back
oh really?
she takes her eyes off me
turns back to her little
notebook
the nonsense on almost
every page
she sees the nonsense
she is not confused
focused
focused
back in imagination
barefoot in the snow
touching, chilling poems
dark
people in the road
really just a cat
geez Sarah
“here be the monsters”
I told her,
but like I said
imagination
her heart
must be huge
with two pairs
of earrings.