There once was a man named Ted
Who had a loud spring in his bed
He oiled the spring generously
So it wouldn't be so noisy
Now Ted rests his head in a quieter bed

bobbing up and down in the azure blue sky
brightly colored air filled spheres
big or small their sizes maybe
bringing much enjoyment to the viewer's eye
baskets attached have people standing in them
breezing above tranquil lakes and verdant glens
brothers Joseph and Jacques Montgolfier invented them

The glowing jacinth sun was just beginning its descent,
casting long, flittering shadows on horse and rider alike.
Although the horse was young, he walked
with an air of importance,
like a racer entering the track.
As the playful breeze rustled the viridian leaves,
his muscles tensed.
He perked up like a toy soldier,
watching the purpling sky with wary eyes,
the amaranthine clouds reflected in those deep sable orbs.

As he trotted about like a fairy,
his russet coat shone vibrantly in the setting sun,
a body of twinkling rubies set in amber.
The sprite padded softly on the ground
with the delicate nature of a hummingbird,
he had a stride like a river of sweet milk and honey.

The chestnut dreamer skipped across the ground
like notes across a page,
his song light and airy.
he tiptoed and pirouetted,
his three pearly stockings dancing
like the melodious keys of a piano.

Her cinnabar savior bounded over the fences
like a prancing stag,
and his dainty ears pricked forward
as his chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the obstacle ahead.
As he jumped, he lit up with a bravery
that could have been felt all throughout the arena.
Had the two not been alone,
the entrancing sight would have been easily able to charm his way
into the hearts of even the stoniest of onlookers.

With a gleeful snort,
the sunny gelding seemed to fill the air
with good-natured laughter.
The rider reached down to give him a pat,
and he brightened at her touch,
the pet like a kiss on his glossy ginger neck.

And as the last of the daylight filtered away
into the velvety mazarine sky,
his neck stretched down and his walk slowed.
Satisfied with their ride, the two made their way back inside,
surrounding by the growing darkness.

Taken by my hand,
warped and aged with time,
rings and rings of life, ingrained beneath my skin,
you hold me with ease,
and, I unravel with gravity, falling apart.
I bend and lean with the wind,
a slight breeze from you,
is enough to shake me from the ground,
to the sky,
and everything is naked,
and everything is the truth,
and i stand here, before you,
as you hold an axe in your hands.
Ready to fell me,
and take me apart.
My roots are old,
my heart is protected with years of warped timber,
my heart is protected as peach pit,
my heart is protected with poison ivy.
Yet in the spring i blossom,
In the summer i shine bright as the very sun,
And in the autumn i renew myself,
ready to ride the winter's harsh code.
You take me within your grasp,
I am a cold wind,
I am a summers breeze;
I am the very essence of life within you,
within me.
As you come to me, and take me,
And take me apart,
I am ready to go,
I am ready to be burnt by the fire,
and become the earth again.
So come at me,
but be warned I stand tall,
and built strong,
but beneath the outer layers,
I am truly a phenomenal piece of work,
given from the universe,
to you.
Bring your axe,
Bring your rough hands,
Bring your words.
I am rejuvenated by you.