An airy place full of holes in the walls,
Gaping and black from spell blasts,
The stones are slowly uncrumbling and crawling back into place,
Even around the courtyard where the young whizzyrd played,
A healing spell on stones whipped up from sparkly grey dust,
Fossilized dragon scales and bones ground up.
The banks of the moat are jagged and cruel,
But the secret mejik spell is something like rocket fuel,
The whizzyrd begins chanting with arms raised to stormy skies,
Like a majestic balloon the entire castle begins to rise.
The guests are all unknowing as they party in the grand ballroom,
Sipping on zephyr honey and star twinkle wine,
Eating moonbeam soup from griffyn bone bowls with phoenix feather spoons,
*Puff* they go and the soup is glowing and hot,
The spoon rises from it's ashes for the next sip,
Moonbeam elf waiters bring kraken claw knives,
To cut the sunshine noodles from the blue sky.
Flying up to the edge of space,
The Word Whizzyrd castle begins to race,
Off to Saturn in a bubble of air and light,
Soon to chase ring baubles for an orbit in the endless night.
Won't they all be surprised the whizzyrd thinks to himself,
I'll give the whole party the grandest show,
Of shepherd moons made of fire and ice,
Huge dented rocks of mountainous size,
The coffee cream swirl of saturnine clouds,
And whiz-bang asteroid showers with basket ball sized diamonds,
Maybe mountains of pure gold.
Inviting the crowd for a roof-top dessert,
Cosmic ray candy with aurora borealis sauce lights,
Up the stairs they walk until gravity reverts,
Wide open eyes on a fanciful night flight.
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Words are the mind's bridge - it's connection to all the universe.
Love is the heart's bridge - it's connection to all other souls.
Loving words can work miracles.