When I was young living in the
House in the middle of the forest
There wasn’t anyone for miles to talk to
So I’d have to talk to myself

My cat and I would be great jungle explorers
Wandering between the trees
Making spears out of fallen branches
Listening to the wind laughing its stories

Or sometimes, when it rained
and my cat refused to leave the house
(cats being more sensible than little girls)
I’d see how many worms I counted on the pavement

And when the sun came back out I’d
Put the worms back in the dirt before
They fried on my driveway – all crunchy

And at night I’d lie on my back in the grass
Counting the stars ’til I fell asleep
Safe in my solitude