Grandma’s Settee

I fell in specks of dust,
waltzing in sunbeams 
pirouetting from heavens

across great mountains, lakes,
cityscapes and estates,
to her window pane,
to terminate –
in my seat

in my secret paradise,
where light casts shadows of tropical leaves
and silhouettes dance on our memories

my first birthday,
a sister’s graduation,
uncles, aunties,
all akin –
staged on her windowsill

I could get a later train, 
stay an hour (or a week)
but Happiness never leaves

from the heavens –
to this spot
in a grandeur ballet
in dust like confetti

til I bid the star farewell
with a peck on the cheek,
“No worries love, come back next week” 

. . . for another matinee
on Grandma’s settee

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