Wise Is the Dance of the Sky
A river of tears poured down her face;
Ocean softly lapping at her toes.
Anxiety built up in her chest,
While the silver dripped down from her nose.
Curls a shade of chocolate milk
Framed her fragile, milk-white face.
The wind rustled through the willow trees,
Her phobia giving quite the chase.
The night was deep, the night was dark,
Her independence hated now.
Their weapons were the cruelly said,
But to the wolves she wouldn't bow.
Her ears a trashcan for their hate.
No light bulb waited at the end,
The tunnel would stay oh so dark.
Hope did not wait around the bend.
And then painted across the midnight sky,
Made her peer up at the night.
A rocket ship? A shooting star!
She wished and found her will to fight.
She grabbed her shoe from off the sand
The other taken by the tide.
She watched the inky purple sky,
Hoping the paintbrush would abide
She saw it coming from afar.
A feather floating in the breeze.
She made a wish, and let it go,
With just a simple whisper, “Please.”
The silver ring that shone so bright,
Guided her to her well-worn path.
She unpacked her suitcase beyond the “swift”.
She feared no mortal's fearless wrath.
Running would never be an answer,
As the Hippopotamus would surely tell.
When someone intrudes your territory,
Defend it, and defend it well.
For though he may seem gentle,
And walk too slow a pace,
The Hippo is one fierce beast,
So she wore him on her necklace.
The darkest is before dawn
The mighty Polar Bear will say
The gold medallion in the sky
Will hide for six months and a day.
Yet he stands on his icy shoal,
Always awaiting the warming rays.
The sun always returns to us.
Yes, that's what the Polar Bear says.
Copyright © Erika Raiken | Year Posted 2011
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