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Frances E McClelland
Poems
Jun 2019
A Sweeping Fantasy
Climbing up the tree of sanity,
forgetting how I came to be;
A beginning or an ending calls,
between the fanciful purple walls.
Moving onward to reach the top,
looking forward to where I'd stop;
I've seen the mischief behind the walls,
where squabbles twist like little squalls.
Now where could I find my own place,
to start and end this boundless race ?
A step toward home is what I need,
yet wanderlust has been my creed.
It's all a fantasy that sweeps away,
the musky scent of battles at play;
On awakening from this hapless dream,
the world arranges another scheme.
And purple walls come tumbling down,
like violets torn from the underground;
But with the colors they have shown,
at last I've reached my sacred home.
Written by
Frances E McClelland
Hamilton, NJ
(Hamilton, NJ)
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Stephen E Yocum
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