In The Wardrobe With Anne

‘I’ll go. You wait.
Then follow.
You know where.’

‘Don’t worry.
I’ll be there.’

In the dusty dark
She waits, lips pursed.
I arrive. Pull shut the door.
We’re only six,
Seven, but already sense
This is the nearest we’ll get
To something like heaven,
standing close in kindly dark,
Faces damp, unseen, tasting
Our own little sweet Fall from,
Then into, grace.