In your Garden
There’s a chance that I am immortal,
And so at night I climb and decorate trees,
My pale limbs hanging dangerously
Over wind and cold water seas.
I have found other worlds in your garden,
While crawling through the tangled leaves,
My crown fell down a hole that led to
A land of compultion thieves.
I hold my knees to my face and whistle,
My pink hands shiver, tippy toes freeze,
I pick roots of ice growing, biding my time
Till the moon lets me hang from trees.
Over time frost grew between my blue hair,
And sharp cold raindrops tickled my feet,
I’m still waiting for you to remember me
In a garden playground wrapped in sleet.