In a small glass bowl with rainbow hues,
Stands a tiny tree with leaves of jade,
And a golden flame atop does burn,
While some silver stars below parade.
It's a bowl of art and fantasy,
Not on sale in any worldly shop,
It may be found in Gnome's Gallery,
Where the elves and goblins often stop.

This world we live in can be cold,
Heartless and selfish to young and old,
We should, to keep our sanity,
Sometimes indulge in fantasy.

Necessary of onion
by onion and through onion
necessary onion
onion laquered
stimulants, rest
high bridge formula
with footprinted snow, flecked
with spring grass
green light of rash
of broken skin of
red postules flood
in valley of valley
of least resistance
consecrated
goose down mystery
aisles flush with
flooding valleys begins
recondite conditions for
all eves of spectral,
ice skates on self
replicating graph of
destitute and of savor in
binge watch Americans binge
fetish announcements of coral of
nylon per regulation
per workers safety and isolation
news travels, ague fashion of
landed boors bereaved
in fleece in gold of
gentry, pro forma ribbons
in arched halls’
winning rabbit.