To Niche

It is like unfolding a paper crane:
the wings come apart delicately
to tiptoe around each other in the air,
and oh -
such a contrast between that pale expanse
and the inky strands that curl up,
towards the moon.

She is all about finding laughter
in a moment of silence,
and harboring quietness when everything else
sings sorrow.
She is all about joy;
this is reflected in her fingertips
when they trace whispers
over the windowpane.

Small, always small,
even in anger, in loneliness,
but hand her an apple filled with joy
and she will spoil your heart with affection.
Everything she touches gains
a minute importance but
shrinks to gain perspective -
the world is frighteningly clear
when viewed from the opposide end
of a magnifying glass.

Imagine if the world were small enough
to accomodate her thoughts and memories -
there would still be room for the stars
to tuck themselves in around her.

At noon she folds herself back up
into a small feat of nature,
and the spotlight resumes its wandering course
through the human streets where she does not dwell.