BURNING BROOMSTICKS

There is no good Glenda
Who’s taking you home
With a voice like a song
And a mouth like a phone
No magical munchkins
On yellow brick roads
The paths you should follow
Or how you should go
No infinite wisdom
That I can impart
To get in your head
Or cut to your heart
A ball full of images
That’s somewhat askew
You tell me you’re welcome
When thank you will do
You’re tapping your heals
And carrying photos
Burning up broomsticks
And playing with toto
Stepped into colors
Now your slippers are ruined
Can’t find your way
If they don’t play the tune
So play on tomorrow
And play on today
Sing when we can’t find
The right words to say
We skip and we hop
When it’s easier to walk
Stammer and blush
When it’s easier to talk
We polish the tin
And then fluff up the fur
Think we’ve arrived
Between lines that we blur
For fantasy bleeds
From the tip of a pen
As rainbows to somewhere
In letters we send
As music is madness
And every note soars
You search for your soul
Behind shiny green doors
With buckets of water
To melt away dreams
What a cruel world
And wicked witch screams
All hail Dorothy
As they hand you a prize
Rewarded for murder
Your innocence dies
A chain of events
That’s a warp on your mind
Men behind curtains
Slowing down time
Twisters and monkeys
And lions on thrones
Courage and heartbeats
And no place like home

TM DiSarro


©2020 TM DiSarro/MindScapes Publishing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s