Poetry
by di~dah
eucalyptus
dreams
a
river it runs through her dreams
wild
and cold and tumbling free
drawing
her nigh to the other source
warm
and bubbling in constant commotion
a
soothing balm to body and soul
a
calming lotion
but
it's something else she really craves
high
on the hill it calls her name
dancing
through her dreams
a
never ending theme
a
spell some say has been cast
one
that holds forever fast
until
she comes home at last
to
what she wants
to
what she thinks she needs
to
that sweet eucalyptus
and
the faerie fay will lead the way
they
will not rest
they
will aid in her quest
for
they planted the seed
and
they say it should be
it
is not up to you and me
it
is her destiny
that
sweet eucalyptus
the
posh piglet
the
posh piglet
passed
the pinnacle of phrenic and physical,
and
phased into that phantom periphery
on
plump pillows,
as
the periwinkle pixie
poised
on petals of perfection
pondered
the pooped petunia in repose.
it
was plain the precious piglet
would
soon again
painstakingly
practice
her
penchant for playing peek~a~boo at perihelion,
when
rising like the phoenix
she
will proceed to the paisley pagoda,
painted
in a pallette of pinks,
and
join the polyophony
partaking
in peach tea and petit~fours,
and
playing pachisi with
plaintive and
philosophical pachyderms,
who
will parade with panache and pageantry
around
the palace.
they
will perplex the pervasive and pesky pallbearers,
who
dole out papal penance to pagans in panic,
and
promise periodic perks
to
the persnickity perusers of perversion,
perpetually
pelting the painted ladies
on
party patrol in the parabolic passages.
and
the priceless and phenomenal
pantalooned
piglet
will
win....
