by Moeain Arend
Glowing polished ebony face,
sugar-coated
with a fluff of candy-flossed white
Copper-bangled wrists,
hopping
and
skipping,
whirling
and
twirling
to the jingle of a high-pitched
peter-pan-like voice
And now,
all your colours and tunes
peter out into one image:
tears falling
like
the innocent pit-a-pat of a child’s footsteps