I'm not at my best when I'm near tears.

Yet I'm nothing without my pearls.

The full-length mirror gets the fit of laughter. Me too.

There's my best friend, Winnie the Pooh.

 

My hair falls to the shoulders.

The ears; eyeglasses holders.

I love the candelight. It begins

and ends by my hands in the early night.

The light reappears every now and then

more or less by my pen.

I like to play by myself impressing nobody except me,

pretending

you might read.

 

As a little all adults seemed big and old.

Outside, excluding summers, was always cold.

Where's the useless time?

Was it a loan or mine?

Have mercy for no reason

in all seasons.

 

I fill me with the feeling of unity

slipping into my pyjamas.

The teddy of simple nature is never rough.

The nightdress barely huffs.

The morning sunlight flickers on the roof above.

Winnie the Pooh stays asleep alone.

 

If ever there was one.