She loves the forest

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Where the grants stand guard protecting her,

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Shielding her from the world of busy streets

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And pollution

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She knows lightning bugs are flying down to volt

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Gently she captures them in a ball mason jar

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Temporarily holding starlight.

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Pixies emerged when her exhales send them flying

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From the dandelion stalk,

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Floating free in the field of lavender.

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The only blades in this place are the ones 

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That tickles her toes as she dances below the weepy willow,

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That will never judge her tears.

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The babbling brook tells her tales

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Of the deep cerulean sea,

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Where it long to be salty to the tongue,

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But free to roam in the sunset.