She kept a ladder in her pocket,
made of twigs,
Just in case she needed an escape.
Small but magical:
for whenever she was frightened
the ladder grew,
rung after rung, tall and strong.
Up she climbed,
above the treetops and mountain ridges,
through fluffy clouds,
towards space and far-away galaxies.
Calm celestial sounds
of echoes twinkling and cosmic snores
from planets sleeping
soothed her mind as she ascended,
higher and higher.
She didn't stop until she stepped upon
the powdery surface
of the moon, her secret home for one.
I always felt that this linocut had a poem but I couldn’t find the words to tell it until last night.