We make dollies
Out of wheat sheaves
And rose petals
Happy and strange words
Are my home
I think
She giggles
I see you
Her fingers flap like
Butterfly wings
Far quicker than mine could ever go
We like how the dollies
Smell and feel
Almost as if they are alive
Perhaps we should weave in
Some hearts
She says
I am wrapped up in the work
But I nod
She sings to herself
Reason is music to
A jaded heart
Her song is sweet and pure
The adventure did not
Make her jaded
It just made her grow
In more than one way
She chimes
Perhaps if we gave the dollies
Potions and red shoes
They would grow too
We look at each other
And smile
Hands red and sore
But content
Happy with our work.
