Not even the loudest thunder can wake me when I’m sleeping…

Not even the loudest thunder can wake me when I’m sleeping…
Nor witches nor demons or anything like that…
My dreams are like a photographer’s negatives…
Opaque, yet, glowing with light.

My butler’s waking touch is like little icy pricks…
Followed by goofy words, I can’t follow…
Then his voice becomes as clear as a Church bell…
Time to eat!

Today, I’m going for wide-eyed and perky…
Maybe I’ll hop about with the biting bugs…
Romping and playing wherever I roam…
Or perhaps, today, I’ll just blend in with the sunflowers.

Someone has to set an example…
Against the blind, ruthless destruction…
For those who are worried they may melt from the pale glowing sheets of mist…
Or for those living in a series of theaters.

So let’s swirl in figure eights across the lawn…
Our tails waving in the wind (tie a feather to your butt if you don’t have a tail…)
I will give you a magic lesson…
As I touch my nose to yours.

I love you,

Annie