The Islands we go to when we sleep
Are green and winds relentless sweep
It smells like a little girl’s head
After she’s been playing outside with friends.
After toys lay strewn across the lawn,
Scattered hula hoops and jumping ropes,
Hopscotch squares marked with chalk
And stones tossed as she skips down the walk,
Wearing Ked’s and cotton shorts,
Skipping Double Dutch – one two three –
I like the boys and they like me.
Riding bikes until its dark.
Banana seats and handlebars,
In dreams I visit islands that float in time,
The scent of sunscreen and sweat are mine,
But my street’s quiet when I wake up.
No hula hoops, no Double Dutch.