Sally tried to go to sleep but
she couldn't, she missed her
Dora doll and her old baby-
sitter and her dad and her
cousins in New York and
the doggy she'd wished for
but didn't have yet and her
old school and the new one,
her kindergarten, and the
teacher who, Sally said in
a thin voice, between noisy
breaths, is - nice, sort of.
She missed her pink rain-
boots and her high bed and
the ice cream she couldn't
finish and her mom
whom she didn't mention and
the pony at Turtle Back Zoo.
After we'd whispered the list and
I sang the old songs: My Little
Nut Tree, Loola Loola Bye-Bye,
and she hugged Fishie, she fell into
the long night.
