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A Perfect Fit

Twinkle, twinkle, myriad stars
Upon two silver shoes;
I wish I may in wondrous flight
Away to where I choose.
A tap together of the heels,
A yearning of the soul,
And through a moment’s passageway
Across the heavens stroll.
No place go I—exotic, rare,
Exceeding great or fine—
No place, but to a simple state,
Modest by design.
No other comforts capture me,
No other people share
The plain familiarity,
The unassuming care.
The evening star above my bed,
Beneath my feet the loam
That holds the seed that grows the life:
The place I call my home.

From OZ: THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION
Books of Wonder / HarperCollins © 2000

Note: This poem by Troy Howell is based on the original tale by L. Frank Baum, in which Dorothy’s shoes are silver, not red.

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