A galloping child
knows nothing of guile
head crowned with golden flowers
Holes in the knees
of hand-me-down jeans
escaping the evil king's powers
She's frightened and still
she sprints down the hill
Eyes wide and breath short with excitement
The horses draw near
but the prince she can hear
to save her, much to her delightment
She climbs up a tree
from there she can see
him slaying the guards all around
The king runs away
Her prince saved the day!
He helps her back down to the ground
But now it gets dark
The forest's a park
Her playtime and daydreams are done
Thanking her friend*
for the fairy tale end
she goes home to sleep with the sun
*This friend (the prince) is intended to be imaginary.
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2 comments:
Your poem makes me want to sit on the step. I sure wouldn't mind sitting there with you again. :)
Personally, I think it's your best poem. Really cool, Diane. I'm going to StumbleUpon it.
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