She slows down just enough
to remember a scrap of story,
words hum themselves
into a sudden song,
once upon a time lilts itself,
meanders to its own current on
purple balloons and
cream cheese moons,
rhymes a hopscotch she dances along.
She sings me to my long ago lake,
crabapple summer,
swing high singing
until my father’s car
churned the dust coming home.
