this is the stuff of your dreams;

we are walking on stars like stepping-stones,
the Queen-Moon smiling cooly at my hop-scotch attempts,
like a weary mother, as our hands intertwine and we jump.


but, sister, you missed a step and you're falling,
d

    o

        w

            n
            
but you land on seas of cotton candy and rose petals, 
not a scraped knee in sight,
nor a hint of blood stain on these sensory delights.

the silly grandfather clock dons his fedora,
feather on top to tickle my nose. 
"it's time to come inside, darlings"

but father hasn't yet shone his fire beams,
the throne is still filled,
i am loyal to my royal.