By: Linda M Crate
there are no more tomes
of labyrinth to beseech
no more goblin kings to steal
away the breath and hearts of
young and old girls alike in the spinning
of three crystal balls and a swift
march of barn owl feathers
against the wind
in their magical crooning against
insisting and demanding to be heard
against such a cruel spectre,
who will sarah dance with now that you
will all the castles fall into the sea or the bog
of eternal stench?
will we be chased to the ends of eternity
by echoes of memories we cannot
remember entirely as ours?
i suppose only the future knows what it holds,
but there are no crystal balls that can tell us
which way to neverland
seems you were the only one that knew.