Best Friends

The old lady once young used to keep her house spotless, used to fill it with laughter, before silence came.

Stranger’s fingers tipped out drawers, picked up, put down, boxed up, carried away.

I followed, tucked inside the pocket of the house clearer. Listened to their dealings with the market traders.

I lost sight of Donkey, been searching the local markets ever since. And here he is.

“You came,” he says, relief in his voice.

“Of course,” I say.

I hop onto the shoulder of the unsuspecting woman.

“Oh, it’s so cute,” she says.

“Then get it,” her companion urges.

The woman nods, lifts Donkey off the table.

With one more jump I launch myself into the tiny hole beneath Donkey’s base.

It’s dark at first, but then I see the warm glow of Donkey’s shadow.

“Come in, Flea, make yourself at home.”

I flop down beside him, in the flea sized chair.

“To best friends, let our adventures begin,” we say, raising our tiny china thimbles in the air.

peas with honey