I wore crocheted slippers,
my petite size six feet
resting in the tightly laced
fabric in a fit that matched
the very length of my toes.

In my crocheted slippers
I leapt up over the river
of fallen stars, careful to
mind their collision-cracked
whispers. In the clouds
I crafted my own ballet to
the symphony that the sky
provided. I chased dandelion-
puff wishes and tagged
along the journey the wind
ventured upon, catching
a ride on his tail.

I guess when the flowers
wilted, melting like they'd
been swirled frosting roses
and the cake all crumbled on
the platter, I forgot the
stories the trees told me
and the gift of light
that the sun had bottled
up as a memento.

I licked my chapped lips,
regretting knocking down the
petals in my display of
enthusiasm. Looking down,
staring, at my
crocheted slippers.