Over and Over and Over Again
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For A Magical Journey Poetry Contest / sponsored by Constance La France
(Lines 1-3 of the poem are those of the sponsor, Constance La France)
"Fantasy is the magical stuff much of my poetry is made of." by author
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand,
rolling them over and over and over.
Leaving this reality behind, far behind,
I close my eyes. . . I’m in a field of clover!
I stand there enthralled by its loveliness.
I lie down; it’s like being in a verdant sea,
and fluffy clouds in an azure sky
seem to be swimming lazily above me.
Over and over and over again,
I roll the three rocks. There’s a change of scene.
I’m floating on one of those clouds up above,
this time looking down at the clover sea of green.
The cloud, in the shape of an elephant,
takes me for a ride across the sky.
Oh, that cloud is changing its shape now.
I’m falling, wondering if I will die!
I roll those magic rocks over and over and over again,
closing my eyes, for fear I’ll hit the ground.
My eyes fly open, and I’m so surprised,
for in a dry hot desert I’m now found.
Sweltering, I look around. This is not for me.
Over and over and over again,
I roll those three rocks, and then in a blink -
I’m in a woods on the wing of a wren.
I’m as small as a fairy on this bird’s wing.
She soars to a mountain. I feel myself shiver.
Next she flies downward, and absolute blue
is beckoning me. We’re following a river.
I love all I’m seeing, but tired am I.
Still clasping the magic rocks inside my hand,
over and over and over again, I roll them.
Oh my, I see a winter wonderland.
A blanket of snow I have fallen into.
It’s glistening with beauty, but it’s so cold.
I’m weary and longing just to be home.
Can the rocks hear me and do as they’re told?
This time I speak out while rolling the three rocks
over and over and over again: “Take me home.”
I’m in my own bed! Was it all but a dream?
The three rocks have vanished. Will I no more magically roam?
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2025
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