On the wings of the whistling wind
Rode the pair the nightingale and the seagull
Tenderly lifting up the small child’s dreams
To soar once more roaming freely
Past the bright orange moon the gull carried her
And the gale serenaded them both
Thru the purplish clouds they glided
Dipping down at the shore to share a feast
Where the peoples gathered their harvest nets
Where the minnows ran in the tidepools
Where beneath the sea oats swaying in the ocean breeze
Nestled squirting clams uncovered by the retreating low tide
Then watching the dancing dawn reveal the purples and pinks of morn
Once more they lifted her reluctantly
Returning her to her anxious grandfather
Who stressed why the small wee one had eaten none of his stew
And Even declined the freshly baked tart
But with the promise to return on the morrow eve they left her!
Now after the tea, boiled egg and dry toast
She raced down to the shore hoping for another glimpse of her winged friends!
Yet none - she knew truly they would return to carry her once more that night!
Milancie Hammock Corridors Apr 2012