Fantastical Origin

Summers spent pretending that I'm magic.

Running through ruins, finding blue eggshells,

cicada skins or a slingshot-shaped stick.

Ripping up lilacs, enjoying the smells.

I find a rim piece from a flowerpot

in the park and make it an amulet,

tied around my neck with a sailor's knot.

Write our pretend game to remember it.

Look for the Big Dipper or Mars at night.

Reading tea leaves from my doll's empty cup.

I hold my hand over my bright flashlight,

secret reading, scared parents know I'm up.

Older still, writing a fairy story,

imagine that world to escape worry.