The symphonic scream of cicadas
hot wind whispers over the wheat
when out of the sky
in the blink of an eye
a witch, with a broom for seat
A ruthless Midwestern twister
a box full of fury and flow
on a ruby-red mission fixation
with an army of monkeys in tow
A bright-hearted girl from west Kansas
no boyfriends or lovers to call
struck dumb by the words of a wizard
who wasn’t a wizard at all
Fell asleep in a field full of poppies
woke with a head full of fear
approached the green castle with caution
but spoke like the tip of a spear
Tracing the stitch on her pillow
she imagines the blood in her veins
she chases the witch to the willow
till the beat of her heart starts to wane
She wakes to the wind in her navel
the bees fulminate in their hive
the blue mink is donning red sable
the white wolf is barely alive
Dot’s in a battle worth fighting
Dot’s in a fight she must win
With a gaggle of misfits and losers for friends
On a mission to get back to her kin
She skipped on the bricks that were yellow
she fought with the man made of straw
met a cat terrified of his shadow
found the hollow man’s heart in a drawer
She summoned the courage inside her
relied on the love in her heart
instilled faith in the minds of her comrades
and never gave up from the start
Trapped in a dreamscape of terror
with demons of doubt in her bed
overcame the evil that faced her
and woke up with a bump on her head
Dot’s in a battle worth fighting
Dot’s in a fight she must win
With a gaggle of misfits and losers for friends
On a mission to get back to her kin
bendingtheneedle 