The Nightmare of Mare

She sleeps at night with cradled head
Lying sideways across the bed
Dreaming of cleaning with the sweep of a wand
Hearing splashes from her little coy pond
Sitting up rigidly, suddenly upright
Wondering what became of the night
Did she sleep through it or was it a dream

Or is this a nightmare, an unwilling hell
Laying back said, “Only time would tell”
After an hour she awoke once again
Befuddled, she asked herself when?
What time of the night is it now?
Could she make it to work, would time allow?
Dressing hurriedly, she fed the fish outside
But all of them stared with rounded eye

She looked again, she wasn’t sure
And immediately sought a kind of cure
What could she do to change the hose?
Extending from each of their nose
Vacuuming the bottom like a coy should
But below was furniture made from wood
Neatly arranged into a simple living room
One larger coy was sweeping a broom

But on the top of the water lay her sparkly wand
Floating and bobbing on top of the pond
With a quick sweep of her practiced arm
She caught it up without doing the fish harm
And with a wave she was back in bed
Fluffing her pillow and shaking her head
It was all but a dream she did decide
But under the pillow, a wet wand did hide…..

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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One Response to The Nightmare of Mare

  1. Mary says:

    comically curious and delightfully written!

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