She said she had a cat named Purple…
I mentioned cats didn’t come in purple.
She replied, “You’ve never seen him
sleeping on the roof at sunset!”
How does one argue with five year old logic,
Eyes that see magic at every turn?
“Little Judy,” a creative, forty year old mind
inhabiting a little girl’s body,
with hair and eyes the color of ravens
I remember her sliding down the stairs
one by one on her behind.
She called it “sledding on carpet,
warm snow with bumps.”
Watching her giggling all the way down;
a flashlight in one hand, Purple in the other.
You never knew when you needed a light
for making rainbows or turning cats purple.
To where do they disappear, I wondered…
The magic wands, purple cats,
made of flashlights and magic?
When do little girls grow up,
and stop sliding down stairs?
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd