Abby's Turn

OK my 4-year-old is jealous of her sister, so here is her poem. I'd love to live in her world. If imaginations paid in dividend, she'd be set for life.
Abby is my middle kid with long, long brown hair and saucer-like blue eyes. She looks like a cross between a Hummel and a Cupie doll.
Abby is the reason I praise God each day because I know it will be filled with sunshine no matter the weather. She is squishy and cuddly-- with a round toddler body.
If you saw her at the park, she'd be the one dresed in a knitted snow cap, sequin dance top, knitted scarf, jeans and tutu throw on top for good measure-- and always, she has on her ladybug rainboots.
The sentences were her own-- though I did help her with arrangement. Come on she's four.
She calls this poem:

Fishy Garden of Me

Growing plants

dance round and round.

They want to go inside

the house in

Abby's trunk

and do ballet

while reading

"Winnie the Poe"

on their tip toes.

Flying round and round

they jump high into

the fishy garden of me--

a bunch of letters--

ABCD

and a cowboy riding a winged horse

"Giddy up Cowboy!"

inside Abby's trunk.

Santa Claus is coming

to see the little flowers--

blue, purple, orange, red, yellow, green--

do splits.

I read to them

"Starlight Fairy"

on a windy Monday

inside Abby's garden.

Abby- age 4