She lay back on the slab of rock beside the swimming hole in the finally warm sun of early summer and asked for her favorite poem once again.
Julia sighed, "But Charlie, don't you want to hear something else... something new?"
"No, that's the one I like the most."
Charlie shivered as a breeze blew across her damp skin and thought about how good the water would feel later in the summer when she and Julia would come here again, and then closed her eyes as her new best friend started speaking.
She let the nonsense wash over her, this something new that no one ever told her existed, these made-up words with too many ideas that cleansed her of something mundane that had begun to itch and tear at her soul.
"Twas brillig and the slimy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe: all mimsy were the borogroves, and the mome raths outgrabe."