Ever since you abandoned your magic
of forming swans and goldfish
between your fingers
we scratched, scrubbed until every last
bit of green is gone
and you who were supposed to stand straight
look tall and almighty, sat hunched.
face down, sobbing,
unable to keep our world spinning.
you did not keep up the rooftop for us,
and rain poured to leave us
cold and wet for many months straight
but being mad at you will not help any more
than the rain water can grow sprouts from the tiled floor.
keep searching for the lost wand,
and get back on your feet for I will be your cane
together we can fill corner by corner
with your once sparkling blades
and then—the swans and goldfish will come splashing.