Vera is tired.

She’s been pondering too many big questions all day.
Where do I come from? What am I supposed to do?
The golden spirals that usually twirl around her head were itsy-bitsy tiny today – and no help at all.

Then she did something penguins seldom do – in fact, they almost never do so.
She sat down.

She sat down in an old painting, feeling completely lost,
humming a song she once heard on the radio:

"One thousand and one yellow daffodils begin to dance in front of you, oh dear.
Are they trying to tell you something?
I’m going slightly mad..."

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’m going slightly mad today. And I think I need a good cry.”

There were only a few rose petals lying on the ground next to her,
as if all the joy had withered and died.
Sometimes that was just fine.
And now was such a time.

Vera felt good about being sad,
even though she knew she should be glad.
“No,” she said to herself,
“if I’m going slightly mad again,
I can be both happy and sad –
and listen to the yellow daffodils.
They might be wise.”

If I had shoes, she thought, I would kick them off,
and put my tiny feet on the missing table.
It’s a good thing I don’t have shoes.

Sometimes it’s perfectly okay to go slightly mad –
especially if you’ve been absolutely crazy for a while.