A winter's midnight dream
distilled
Filled the spaces left unfilled,
Painted their globes with globules on brush,
And patterned the scenery: greenery, lush
With hopeful endeavor and Biblical splendor.
In center, a knight, the gallant defender
Stationed his hold to royal accord
With
magisterial armor and
burnishéd sword
Dug deep into dirt with obedient hands
That sat overlooking dangerous lands.
Away in her cage sat the object protected,
Tired and small, and quite
unelected;
Dainty and delicate, pent-up with class,
Stroking a
unicorn, hand-made from glass.
She, raising her eyes to gaze at the stars,
Thought to distant fireflies locked up in jars,
And, seeing then that the moon would hold high,
Stood, crossed her tower, and let out a sigh,
Put down her
trinket for nighttime to keep,
Curled in bed, and quickly fell asleep.
-February, 1999