What I Know

The stones that you hid as a child

still wait for you in mossy tree stumps,

the fairies still hold your secrets

in the palms of their hands,

the baby bird’s bones still dream peacefully

under the roots of the old oak,

 the creek still sings the songs

of the stars.

And your imaginary friend,

who has watched you every day

through a stranger’s eyes,

still curls up beside you as you close your eyes,

white wings covering you as you sleep