Imagination

She stared at the brick wall and
imagined it had windows and a view
of trees and rolling hills:
better still, they opened and allowed
the breeze to caress her hair and
bring her caravanserais of smells.
The wall was quite blank and had
grown, course by course, as
she had grown so it was
always taller than her
even when she jumped.
She had tried piling things up to
stand on but there was nothing
solid enough, and her parents
had enough foresight not to
buy her books.
But in the bricks' whorls and roughness
she could still see
whole worlds of wonders,
deep aeons of time and
enough thoughts to last
several lifetimes.