Six and Trees

Six and trees

bloomed round as

naptime dreams:
mint balloons on stalks, the
 sun a pinwheel on a flat
blue plate. "Myopia," they intoned.
My mother moaned; I waited

'til I was nine, then the lines
lines were defined, the world
aligned, perspective mine.
In my granny glasses (gold)
I'm old, I thought
but I was
not.