I sleep in a graveyard
Cluttered with skeletons
Of dreams abandoned
Jagged remnants of childhood
Jut out of the less than fertile
Ground.
A cocky wooden puppet
Dances all aflame
With a cricket crouching on his nose
Roasting a marshmallow
With one of its legs.
Faeries’ wings are plucked and sold
By little lost boys who forgot their souls
In the dryer back at the tree
And a lost slipper waltzes alone.
Ships once gilded in gold
Pile up rotted rusted, torn
Broken at the bow, tilted at the mast
Robbed of pirates, wars and magic
A satiated wolf pawns red riding’s hood
For a little old lady who lived in a shoe
That decided to walk away one day.
Mermaids lie on a sealess shore
Their scales dry and crack
Peeling off to mix with the luminescent snow
Dragons’ wings are clipped
No more kingdom to protect
Once Arthur forced his sword back
Into the stone
The crown; too heavy
For his own soul.
Miss Muffit now rules
From her spider legged throne.
The puppet show is at its end
His strings singe
A pile of timber is all that remains
And the caterpillar roasts on a spit
Above its roaring fire.
No comments:
Post a Comment