Duties Indigenous to Possessing a Magical Stone
Note the ring I wear;
See, it has a magical stone!
Such sparklers grant wishes,
(All but my own).
So, caravans, many from far away,
Bring people, who push at my halo, nightly.
Merchants implore my jeweled band for success,
While youths make inquiries for might.
Yet, this trinket, this amazing gem,
My treasure odd, enchanted, old,
Can’t become my profit;
(Charms become dust if traded for gold).
Long ago, crones warned my kin,
Not to try to glean posture or wealth,
Rather to value higher gains,
Especially friendship, honor, and health.
Thus, I witness riches, status, beauty,
Sprouting in supplicants’ lives.
They become cuter, more popular, better moneyed,
Than me, but it’s my temperament that strengthens, thrives.
Except for the Lops
Except for the lops that scatter
Whenever ravens or aircrafts cast
Shadowy beaks over given forbs,
Field denizens live ignorantly.
Except for those horses running
Circles on Hippodrome tracks,
Hoofs over dirt, manes flying,
Stadium inhabitants mostly thrive.
Except for lab incarnations exposing
Weakened critters, typically unearthed,
Following husbandry’s risky puzzles
Life exits cages amid pus plus scarring.
Fritzi: A Child’s Comfort
I don't have any pets.
So, when I'm alone, fretting
It can be upsetting.
I lock myself in my bedroom,
(It's actually my dream room),
Where I talk to my stuffed cat.
Fritzi's very pretty.
She's a calico kitty.
Her whiskers, pure black velvet.
Her purrs resonate.
Her ears hold fast my secrets.
Her nose smells no regret.
I don't have any pets.
So when I'm quite upset.
I fasten the latch
And engage my stuffed cat.
