She hands me tiny seashells
Plucked from
atop her pillowcase.
Together, we
visit the beach
That is in
her mind.
“I’ve never
done this before,” she confides.
I know.
Neither have
I.
At our
beach, the sun warms our bodies
As it
reflects off the sand.
We breathe
in the smell of the ocean
That fills
her room.
Through
tears she says, “I just want it all fixed.”
Me too.
I wish I had
a magic wand.