Once there was shadow
floating like melodies
on tiny purple wings
in a tin can soft
all giggly with sparkles
of unusual frogs, you see
Tales tumbled like mom's hugs,
and icicles told about rains, drip-drop.
Moon shapes in flower's lick;
wondering smell of upside
down umbrellas under the bedroll,
weren’t they spice, you feel.
Sequin whispers often look
at toy winds and kindergarten
sky rockets filling songs
till the sun takes a nap
with only candy clouds left,
wasn't it curiouser still cling.