For 1397 Poetry Contest sponsored by Brian Strand
I tied a string to my tricycle handle. In the basket, I placed a shining candle. From the other end, I tied a balloon. By hook and crook, I knew that one day soon, I'd be in the court of the Crimson King. But what would he offer - not a thing. He sailed a walnut shell in the gutter, floating like a boat without a rudder. So, I pedaled to the frozen North, as my balloon and I sallied forth.
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