How Magical Is He
He sits in the meadow’s flowers, bubbling away.
The bubbles float skyward, on into a new day.
He used to have a flute, but now this is his way.
Of spreading music and joy from here to far away.
How magical is he? The children all say.
We are not sure actually, but he is totally fey.
He is an elf magician, can spin gold out of hay.
Rumplestiltskin’s grandson says my nana, May.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2022
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment