the glass doors

will the doors look
like glass, she asks,
as you brush a coat of white
paint onto
the wooden panels.
I want them shiny
and smooth, you know,
like glass.
of course not.
only glass is glass,
but you don't say that,
instead you say, yes.
the doors will
look like glass.
in fact, at the end
of every rainbow
is a pot of gold.
throw a coin
into a fountain,
find a falling star,
make a wish, all of your
dreams will
come true if you truly
believe. yes, my dear.
the doors will
look like glass
and tomorrow you'll
be a child again
before you began to think
this way.