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.
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.”
I wish I had a magic wand.