Wendy's right foot stretches out and lets go,
tilts on its heel, waggles a toe. Her toes
are on holiday now, children set free
to bask in the gaze of the sculptor
who dances and sings the grand rounds of her body.

Wendy basks in the laughter of children at play, invisible children who climb and fall down
on the mounds and mounds, the mountains of her. They snuggle up into her teddy bear warmth,
hang on the limbs and the lap of her story,
and leap down again to dance all around her.