The Big Dress Off. 16 outfits. 4.5 hours.


Oh Tuesday afternoon 

why are you so boring? 

I’m done making a mess

and almost done screaming. 

So let me crawl into my closet

and pull everything out

try every piece of clothing 

until I hear Mumma shout.

Let me start with those dresses 

that are stacked neatly in a corner 

and pull the one from the bottom 

only because it’s shinier than the other.

Shiny-crazy-summery-fluffy

silly-melony-dressy-wintery 

look at my wonderful outfits

oh wait, is that dad’s checkered tee? 

I have to try everything 

big or small, long or short 

skirts, pants, scarfs, sweaters

who cares if it’s cold or not. 

And now that I have made a mountain out of all the clothes 

I am going to be a queen and stand on it proud and tall

oh Tuesday afternoon,

you weren’t so boring after all. 






The Day We Did Nothing

The day we did nothing 

the couch became our spaceship

and with bits of paper in our pockets

we launched a dozen rockets.

The day we did nothing 

scarfs turned into capes

and then we rescued toys 

of different sizes and shapes. 

The day we did nothing

we took the train to nowhere 

and got off at a station 

just ’cause it had a bakery right there! 

The day we did nothing 

she painted every doll’s toe nails

then the monkey got grumpy

so I gave him a bright orange on his tail.

The day we did nothing 

we swam in our beds 

no pool, no pond, no lake

we crossed an entire ocean with a duvet over our heads.

The day we did nothing

we discovered a little library on a tree

‘take a book, leave a book’, it said

and our faces lit up with impish glee. 

The day we did nothing

we made up silly words 

Bleee bloop blappp blaaaage

and even before we had realised ‘silly’ became a new language. 

When we don’t know what to do

we start by doing nothing

then all the little things around us

magically turn into an awesome something.

And that’s why,

the best days are the days 

when we did absolutely nothing. 

The Moon Lovers

 

There are two people in my home 

who are crazy about the moon, 

they talk to him, they sing to him

and they’re going to write him long letters, pretty soon.

They sit by the little square window 

to catch a glimpse of him 

and when he shows up 

they have long conversations until the lights go dim.

Is it a bowl filled with pristine white curd?

Is it a big white balloon floating in the sky?

They ask each other,

and when it hides behind the clouds, they wonder if he’s feeling shy.

“Can we come visit you?”

“Will you come play with me in my room?”

“What would you like for dinner?”

Oh tell us, Mr. Moon.

His sight makes them happy 

I see their eyes light up with joy,

it seems like he takes away all their sorrows 

and they forget the knotted strings and the broken toys.

There are two people in my home

who are crazy about the moon,

one is three years old 

and the other, is turning sixty-seven soon.

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