Shall we write a sonnet
She asks
No little Cricket
It is too much like mathematics
And I do not have a head for numbers
Not like him
The light is leaking in through the window
We daydream
Words
Pictures
The art of Wonderland
The falling rain
Splits and breaks our thoughts
We are far away
Today
There have been many delays
And detours
To navigate
We hope that once we are passed
The wreckage
Our thoughts
Will become clearer
It is all part of the journey
The adventure
She claps her hands in glee
Picks up a pencil
And starts to write our sonnet
It will be magical she declares.
