I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. (I think I made you up inside my head.)
I must bridge the gap between adolescent glitter and mature glow.
It was my first big chance, but here I was, sitting back and letting it run through my fingers like so much water.
They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
I said: I must remember this, being small.
Life has been some combination of fairy-tale coincidence and joie de vivre and shocks of beauty together with some hurtful self-questioning.