The Gravity Well

Imagine floating.

Imagine your hair loose, flying in the soft breeze.

Imagine you dancing in the wind. Imagine chasing the butterflies. The dragonflies. The cotton balls as they float idly in the summer sun.

Imagine being at the center of the earth, where Gravity cannot reach you. Imagine going round and round in circles, and actually enjoying that for a change.

Imagine the floor disappearing from under your feet. Imagine yourself rising slowly, steadily. Imagine reaching out for the inky black sky, the twinkling stars studded in the heavens above.

Imagine being at the centre of a bubble, which carries you over the world as you know it.

Imagine flying higher and higher. Imagine toucing the red hot sun, with the mittens so it doesn't burn your skin. Imagine the warmth, the promise of life.

Imagine blowing over an apple tree in full bloom. Imagine an apple racing towards the earth, too ripe for the tree. Imagine the sweet crunchiness as your teeth bite into the apple.


That Gnome

2:15 AM seems the right time for some weird little inspirations, like the one I just had, about a butterfly chasing Gnome...

One fine morning, my pet Gnome and I
Went down to the garden, to catch a butterfly
The gnome was happy, so this poem we wrote,
but he didn't see where he was walking, and squished a toad
Shocked, the gnome looked down and said, "Blimey!
That little toad sure is green and slimy!"
"You idiot, that's 'coz you killed him," said I,
"and you chased away that big butterfly!"
"Quick, run, after the tiny beast," said he
and in his haste, tripped into an elm tree
Bonk! went the gnome's head on the tree bark
Dazed and confused, he said "Flengin, glargen, plark!"
Just then, floated a butterfly with a big, big wing
"Charge! we have to capture that little thing!"
With that warcry, the gnome went off again,
and promptly forgot his guilt, shame, and pain
Up the hill, down the hill, even side to side
that wily butterfly took the gnome for a ride
Alas! the fat gnome had no chance
Thus giving up, he returned with a contemptuous glance
"Well," I asked him, "did you at least see the colour of the wing?"
"Dude, don't ask me that, 'coz orange doesn't rhyme with anything!"