those beautiful days when the santa ana winds
were baby tornadoes leprechauns 
lived in tree knots crayon shavings were the key ingredient
in fairy dust (making us fairies by default) rolly pollies
just slightly shy little elves

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our dreams were glimpses of another dimension

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tooth fairies unicorns luna lovegoods
pots of gold waiting to be found

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it was like trying to hold on to your friend’s frisky dog
running your hands through the rapids of a cold river
drawing a perfect circle in one shot 
the soft pop of a tennis ball gliding over the net

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the smell of freshly baked gingerbread
last christmas when we all took the first bite together

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like darkening in the last period of the story
you’ve been working on it for ages

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this is the art of holding onto something good