Open The Tome

Alice is tired after dancing with Mr Teddy Bear
she knows there are still a myriad messages to
translate, it is already late and she did not sleep
much last night, the flowers are softly humming
and in the distance she still hears the strumming
of Imp Y Celyn’s eldritch guitar

The chord of creation is still sounding in her ears
and she dreams of the dance in a dress that reflects
the magic of years, Mr Teddy Bear went to bed after
dancing with her and her porcelain doll is rocking him
to sleep, Alice wish she could join the happy domestic
scene, but in the open-plan office

The show must go on, one-dimensional, movement
churning like a small maelstrom right in front of her
not sideways or backwards or upwards or any other
kind - Alice would like to go travelling in her mind -
send the tentacles of her thoughts onto the Internet,
to the waves of information

But the dance and the song is over for now, Mr Teddy
Bear is in dreamland, Mr Nutcracker only a chimera
and she sighs as she opens the tome which was
sent by Madame De La Pompadour…