Midnight Pumpkins

Something like glitter,
perhaps confetti
and a wish is granted.

But perfection is contained
in a stolen bubble
which bursts itself for the sake of freedom.

Freedom is an island waiting for discovery –
discovery is a circle under a spotlight
and you were in it.
It felt like a moment …
fifteen, they said.

A moment is a whirl,
abandoned in chardonnay, heady on roses.
Above, a mirror-ball like your planet –
reflections of hope and make-believe.

Later there is panic,
a hectic flight –
a flight of steps (perhaps a fall)
and something indelible is left behind

to be told as a story, perhaps a warning.

© Caroline Fox Betts 2010


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