Despite the fairy tale, and a good trick in a cyclone.
DOROTHY UNDRESSED
When I, as in a dream
Am not me
I am free.
A sudden jerk
May stoke the cold
Chimney but when I
As in a dream
Am not me
I am free to divest
Of gingham pinafores
Flying sock monkeys.
When you, always you
Find me at last
It might be too late.
Posture all you want
My rangy munchkin
It’s too late
To smooth cotton things out.
The house is abandoned
Hot iron inside, remember?
You always cheer me up with your musical words! Heather !
This is really esoteric, a secret in an abandoned house, only one person knows the circumstances. “mystery”!! in the land of mists the houses all have the odd turkey. great poem!!
The sound of an ending.