Wendy Lady

My children are almost
my age.
When I fly
they believe I am a bird.
They built a house
just for me, but I still
visit them
underground
in the sky.
At night
I tuck them into my stories.
I arrange them all
neatly–
with Mermaids
and Pirates–
where they are always
about to die,
where they are safe
from growing up.
I leave
the windows open
so they can escape.
I leave the windows open
to catch them.