Pretend

She takes another invisible someone by
the hand and leads him to a stone and peeled bark
prepared table, with settings of empty and folded leaves
and brilliantly crafted plates from little thoughts
that saw them first, and saw
the few rocks that looked, in unexplainable intellect, worthy of being served
on them at her no longer lonesome occasion taking place,
the gathering in the backyard she would host
in honor of ceased rain, where I watched from a window that seemed to
be made for quiet onlookers who were not invited, and who
forgot somehow the way to pretend.
I can see her speaking with her guests while she serves
delicately prepared pebbles stolen from the riverbed earlier
and small fragments of fallen leaves, that are
accompanied by imported puddle water from the sidewalk
brewed to a tepid, earthly perfection.
Her personified stranger does not
speak but gives her sufficient company as always
beneath the ever weeping willow tree that shelters
their midmorning feast of carefully created courses she takes pride in, and
her upright form sits atop a miniature tree stump, padded with
verdant moss left behind from time, and rolled into place
with eager effort, before a table fit for make-believe kings.
Freshly selected bouquets of wind-wilted
dandelions and grass blades
adorn the table, upheld by dried cakes of mud, and match
the crown on her head, which dubs her princess, seated
beside a quiet, unseen prince.