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Rated: E · Poetry · Fantasy · #913929
A poem to my muse, nice and simple!
Ode to ‘Kiddo’( or The Colorful Sprite)
Whatever happened to the dreams of
Fairies and unicorns that I used to think of?
I thought of them incessantly as a child, and to ensure
Their safe keeping,
I pressed them firmly into the mind of my childhood,
I never wanted to forget these beings.
That’s how you were created.
I never knew what to call you,
Except hyper, annoying, and energetic;
You could never settle on one idea, it was always
One thing after another, and constantly in rapid motion.
Always leaving them where I least expect them.

On a covered bridge in Madison, Wisconsin,
In the middle of winter with…
Fresh snowflakes softly falling to the ground,
As if someone burst a feathered pillow.
Something else is there…it’s dark, black almost,
You keep it moving in the direction towards the bridge.
Ah, there it is! A chestnut mare, escaped from her pasture,
Ready to cross the sheltered bridge.

You even play tricks with the summer’s eve,
When the sun sets for the day,
Illuminating the clouds with bright fuchsia strips
And shades of purple that Crayola would be envious of.
So far above you cannot reach them.
Like a child you always put some dreams where you cannot reach.

I remember when your wings were broken,
And I mended them with a single phrase.
Then like a bolt of lightning, you wee off again.
To bring the never-ending dreams that I always craved,
And you shared that feeling.

Your hair streaming like a black sparkling fog behind you.
Your appearance always changed, never the same twice,
One blue eye, one green.
Both pink, then pale purple.
Skin the color of ivory…no…now butter yellow.
In the end, you are a palette of color.
You are my overly zealous self,
In the immortal body of a child sprite
© Copyright 2004 famous amos (aslevin at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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