She loves the forest
Where the grants stand guard protecting her,
Shielding her from the world of busy streets
And pollution
She knows lightning bugs are flying down to volt
Gently she captures them in a ball mason jar
Temporarily holding starlight.
Pixies emerge when her exhales send them flying
From the dandelion stalk,
Floating free in the field of lavender.
The only blades in this place are the ones
That tickle her toes as she dances below the weepy willow
That will never judge her tears.
The babbling brook tells her tales
Of the deep cerulean sea,
Where it longs to be salty to the tongue,
But free to roam in the sunset.