The princess walks
in the garden at midday.
The wood slats make a window
just large enough to look through;
the gravel underfoot gleams like silver.
Leaves rustle with the voice
of an invisible crowd.
The walls of her castle
are made of living emerald,
fit for a fairy princess.
She practices her fairy princess stride,
stately up and down the path,
trailing her sweatshirt
like a velvet train,
until she hears her mother calling.