When I was younger

And the world was closer
And wilder
I found a cap,
A little red cone
That fit perfectly on the tip of my finger. 
I knew
It was a gnome’s hat,
And that they would want it back. 
So I set to hiding it in
Secret-making places–
The corner of a bookshelf,
A hollow of roots,
A windowsill lit by moonlight–
But one day I forgot where it was. 
Or,
Maybe,
The gnome found it and
Took it back
Grateful to have their hat again.