Thursday, October 20, 2011

The Day the World Shrank

The Day the World Shrank

The day the world shrank is one I’m glad to put behind me
I yawned and stretched; when I looked down, my house was teeny tiny

I didn’t move at all at first, afraid of what I’d crush
I slowly stood, avoiding trees, there really was no rush

Tiptoeing tightrope down the street, I tried to leave the city
Behind me towering buildings loomed, sun-sparkling and so pretty

I knew now just how King Kong felt, when faced with those bright toys
How easy they would be to climb, escape from all the noise

Toy cars and tiny parks, miniature ponds and trails
Just like a living doll house world, transformed by witches’ spells

A power line then tripped me up, the jolt restored my senses
I picked myself up gingerly, wincing at smashed fences

I hopped over the train tracks, then leapt over a field
But as I waded through the lake, I suddenly felt a chill

The shiver made me cringe inside my oversized fur coat
But as I raised my head once more I saw the distant boat.

No longer was I walking tall, knee-deep in that cold water
Luckily I was pulled aboard by the boat’s own lookout spotter

They got me warm, they got me home, I’d learned from my near-drown
No longer will I wade through lakes. Next time I’ll go around 

Copyright 2011, Laurie E. Still

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