On being six

You are slippered feet
and uncomplicated goodness
starting to sound out the words
in your bright picture books
at once I love you
then I am you
dancing on the living room rug
spinning and spinning
until the room tilts sideways
and I fall over with it, laughing
until mommy tells me to hurry up
then I am sad
now I climb the steps
of my little yellow bus
and press my face against the cold glass
watching mommy and my house disappear
tracing the journey of a raindrop
with dirty fingers
now I am in my room
surrounded by pink
and the dolls are getting married
again
so I sing them a song
they're having a baby
they're a family, like us
they are happy
but I need to find the baby
so I make one out of felt
and Barbie's flat belly
is suddenly bulging
and I'm laughing again