A child that walks without a shadow;
a little girl of the ages that sits alone
yet, finds that the silence is too plangent
to keep company with the mad hatter – Mr. Poe.
The dormouse came along to tease
a wonder and hint a fashion into the magic woods.
“Ligeia there are gardens of butterflies there
with blooms enough for any a table to please!
Henceforth, my sweet child, there will be fine spring flowers
to be found for a place; for a space – for a vase in place…”
and so, it came to be that Ligeia was the caretaker
of the back rows in dreams and in the throe of fantasy’s powers.
Sitting aside the women of lore - Morela, Annabel Lee and Lenore,
Ligeia sang the songs of the circling dance:
“Merry, merry-go-round and round the crescent horse of galloping parry
round, round, and round the garden’s secret rings I adore!”
“Wait Mr. Poe, please explain these mysteries to me
before thy haunted heart beats - no more!”
“Worry not, young Ligeia, the questions are the flowers
that will become real when your eyes choose to see.”
Suddenly, the dormouse vanished like morning dreams
as the carousel of crescent horses traipsed in circles
and rainbow-colored fairies evanesced into wisps
climbing up the mad hatter’s haunting beams.
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