Wonder
Wonder
my chair
is a flying chair
not fleeing as you
might think
but soaring
into greatest heights
to sights my soul
may drink in words
to carry back
and ponder on a while
to see the Kubla’s pleasure dome
or Petra’s carven city.
place them in the baskets
beside the parlour stove
then over time
I call them out
warm and lit by fire
to see the alliances
they’ve made, within
the treasure trove
at wishes bid they
weave a dance
depending on the mood
and oft with but the briefest
glance, a magic story may unfold.
Copyright © Patricia Cresswell | Year Posted 2017
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