The Kingdom of Back 

       I pulled my journal from it’s shelf found in third person you’d written of yourself.

I laughed so hard I couldn’t see! Oh the things you’ll say as me!

But, Father will be taking you away again, taking you far far away.

He’ll parade you before the glutton’s of “more” and curse the horrible pay.

Oh ,but your spirit will be steadfast, yet wasted on those minds . How can those who do not dress

themselves judge one so fine? Meanwhile in our kingdom muses eat their fill and there is no division.

All the subjects do commit to foster each ambition.

Melodies hang on the breeze and collaboration reigns,

and rains no cause for solitude ‘stead cause to celebrate.

Let the orchestra play to the fields of wheat. The clarinets and fiddles chase the timpani, and ,

when it’s our turn to add seasoning to the stew the notes will leap from the belly of a piano built for two.

Above the mountains breech the clouds their peaks pluck the moon.

The hills are lush and forest sway in time to the bassoon..

Cellos charm the doctor and the farmers got the bass.

The seamsters dress our townsfolk in pleats with frills and lace.

The children build wooden boats and give ’em paper sails .

Theatrical violas are announcing fabric whales.

The sousaphone is magic to the toddlers in the isle.

The trumpet races up and down every shade and style.