Magic
Megan's alone, she's as quiet as a mouse,
as she steals through the hallways of
Maplethorpe House. Mysterious, moody
and always morose, it's as if she is leprous
no one can get close.
She carries a parcel held tight to her chest,
whatever it is she won't share with the rest.
How it got through security we'll never know,
in this forsaken place where you can't even
blow your own nose without matron's say-so,
they're so tough, as for personal things...
you can't pay them enough!
One day she went to open it, to show them
what's inside. She said, "It's a Magic Carpet!
Wanna take it for a ride?"
"Right, Megan, 'Magic Carpet,' huh? Next you'll
tell us pigs can fly! Go take your carpet
outta here, it's pie up in the sky!"
She stole the key from maintenance
to the sixth floor quiet room, forced a window,
took her rug, but 'stead of plunging to her doom
the carpet whisked her up aloft above the sixth
floor deck and took her deep into the sunset
until she was just a speck!
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
