The water will be gentle on your hair, or maybe apple blossom
if the season is right, or a handful of paper snowflakes, bubbles
or just words, sung as a candle burns, scented with honey and pine.
Your name will be whispered, let go, to disperse like a dandelion
– you can reel it right back in and have it for the rest of your life,
or pick out a new one like a perfect shell from the shoreline,
or a piece of pink sea glass – you can keep picking and dropping,
just tell me how to make you happy. I will bake an enormous cake
with layers of frosting, white not for purity, but a page to start
filling with scribbles of colour. I will cut the biggest piece for me.
We will take so many pictures, fill up a wooden treasure chest
to keep under your bed, decorated with crepe paper and feathers.
You were born a being of utter cosmic wonder, and you will be
no different after we have done this. But maybe I will be different.