The Small Glass Key Poem by Cristina M. Moldoveanu

in the country without rainbows I was a child
because it was so much light
I sat on a small chair like a mushroom
reading about fairies and castles
from books with green covers and from the sky
with my windows open towards a cherry orchard

there were sleigh tracks and skating paths
white things bloomed
then those pink things and only seldom the blue ones
I talked in the evening with the old trees
I coddled them and caressed their scales or claw-like twigs

sometimes I lay upon a stone under the bright sun
and it was like walking back and lighting the fire by myself
in grandma's room it was the same warm place
the same wall clock towards South
the whole starry sky running in circles

for many years I spent my winters
covered in leaves and crying
as if something breaks inside my chest close to my heart

in a couple of days you shall all talk to me
as if I were a stone
daughter to a sand grain who loved a mountain