The Bunting flutters in the breeze against my little window to the world.
I forget the last time I went out.
but I get meals delivered
and a nurse comes morning and night.
And on the whole
I don’t open the door
because, well, you hear such stories.
A girl with sparkly wings waves
a small act
then they come.
With a plate.
a paper crown.
A bustling man moves my chair to the door,
their tables nearer
and we sing
they let me join in.
I’ll remember that day forever.