The following is an untitled poem that I wrote when I was about 15 years old.. maybe 14. I found it in a folder full of crap from back in the day.
The midnight hour came and went
before the little girl had spent
her time inside the circus tent,
for which she'd paid five dollars.
She'd wandered from her mother's sight
(which pumped poor mother full of fright)
and roamed the countryside all night
alone, save for her dolly.
Across a field and toward a wood..
Though townsfolk often said "twern't good",
the little girl, she stopped and stood
considering an entrance.
After just a little thought,
and asking Dolly if she should or not,
she donned a grin and on she trot
and skipped between the trees.
She stumbled blindly through the dark
until she saw the slightest spark
of light. "Oh, my!" she then remarked..
"Come Dolly, we must go this way."
She lightly stepped toward a clearing
and paused to determine what she was hearing..
Aside from ever so quiet cheering,
she heard the lovliest music.
As she stepped into the fire's light
she knew her feet had led her right
to the tiny, music-playing sprites
who silenced and gathered 'round her.
"Anne.." a little person said
"we thought perhaps that you were dead.."
She patted the tiny man on the head..
"Of course not, only waiting
for the perfect time to come again
and meet with you kind, tiny men.."
She held her dolly firm and grinned.
The sprites smiled back upon her.
Then the festivities bloomed..
the air was sweet, soft and perfumed..
Anne was thrilled as the music resumed.
A party in her honor.
________________________________________Sara T. Biggun
sara T punk