Tickled Silly
An idea whispers,
sneaking in on cat’s paws,
a sly grin curling at the edges,
as I sip morning coffee, unaware.
It dances on tiptoes,
skipping across my mind,
twirling, pirouetting,
a ballerina in a china shop.
My thoughts, the porcelain,
shatter in its wake,
crashing into shards of laughter,
a mosaic of giggles on the floor.
It tumbles through my synapses,
cartwheeling, somersaulting,
a circus of delight,
each neuron a ringmaster shouting, "Encore!"
Tickles burst forth,
feathers of fancy flitting,
an avalanche of absurdity,
rolling me in fits of frivolity.
Ideas sprout wings,
fluttering like butterflies,
their colors a riot,
a kaleidoscope of belly laughs.
I am a marionette,
strings pulled by whimsical hands,
jerked into jigs of joy,
my sides aching with mirth.
Words spill like marbles,
rolling across the floor,
slippery, tumbling,
each one a new guffaw.
An orchestra of hilarity,
crescendoing, a symphony,
each note a tickle,
a crescendo of cackles.
I am breathless,
tears streaking,
sides splitting,
the world a blur of comic chaos.
In this delirium,
sense takes a backseat,
as I am whisked away,
tickled silly by a notion’s glee.
Copyright ©
Don Iannone
|