Thumbelina

He tried to love her blindly
like a mole,
coming directly to her from his digging,
his thick soft fur still carrying
remnants of soil.

It was not his toil that upset her,
nor his lack of care.
There was nothing in her tastes that he shared,
nor she in his
silent love of dark tunnels.

She loved the sun.

She found his weak eyes offensive
and his pointy nose
that was overly inquisitive and probing.
He was no fun. He didn't even have a name.
He was just called "Mole."

And what of mole?
He had need to think darkness made better.
She was not at all what he thought her
and had no desire to be. He could
neither break out of his tunnel, nor in air run free.

Thumbelina felt love for a swallow
that she thought was dead,
wrapped up in a shroud of feathers.
How did she know? Or was it simply despair?
We are not told.

She felt certain she would never grow old.

Then she had a dream
in which the swallow came alive
and it seemed to work.
She dreamed a beautiful world
where she had no fear,

where she didn't have a mouse for a mother,
and there lived a prince
whose home was a beautiful flower.

She'd felt better since.

Then one night while she was a sleep,
blue swallows came
to the fields where in summer she played
and they called her name,
sweeping low in a magical sky;

and this time she flew,
on the very blue back of her swallow
to a land brand new
where she lived in a tulip with a prince
and in real time, too.

Mother has teeth.
She will bite you.
Mole has money
to requite you.
You are very small.
Float away from your fear.
Fish will help you.
Ride your dreams on a fabulous trip
and love will greet you.
Fly away to where flowers
are peopled
with your own dear kind.