Wonderland is dead.
It was shot in the head.
Not by the Red Queen,
though her smile did glean.

No, it's Alice's fault,
she brought my life to a halt,
she sent me madd again,
put me out in the rain.

No more White Rabbit; no Hare,
no Tweedle to dare.
Just me and my mind,
no filler to bind.

Instead I wonder afar,
into a new tales; bizarre.
Ones with turtles and dragons,
and pints and flagons.

Tales as old as time,
and some that even rhyme.
Tales of princes in court,
and all of that sort.

Worlds richer than Wonderland,
and all we had planned.
Worlds wrapped in gold,
where I'm made to feel bold.

Thank you Alice my dear,
for setting my mind clear.
Maddness is to me,
what to you would be glee.

Please don't think this the end,
the next tale is around the bend,
The Hatter lives on you see,
He lives on in me.

We will write new poems for you all,
some short... some tall,
some long winded or short,
some an essayed retort.

Please don't follow or like,
on your keyboards don't strike,
just read as I post,
HelloPoetry thanks for the host.