her heart was a wanderer
and her mind, intoxicated, went along for the adventure
her heart told juicy stories
like a campfire that dances without you telling it to
her mind listened
and her dreams and fantasies and realities wove together
like the wool on momma’s loom
bumpy and imperfect and perfect
cozy
and she loved her dreams
they were windows into other dimensions of existence
that others tried to close shutters on
and she wanted to let the light in
and she was curious
and she was happy to be this child-eyed woman in a world of adults
this was freedom
her ambition was like a pair of dress-up shoes
too big maybe, yes, but glamorous and perfect all the same.
– Nisha Moodley