Fairytales

There's a frog, in the pond,

at the end of the garden.

It sits there in the cool damp

almost glistening under the stars.

 

Quite handsome for a frog, perhaps

I should ask my Fairy Godmother

to make him a Prince, or kiss

him squarely on those puckered lips.

 

Or maybe the stars themselves

might venture out across the velvet

blanket in trails of fire and

grant me wishes, desires, love.

 

And if there's a witch to lock

me up in a tower and hide me,

well just maybe I'll keep away

from the window, seduce her.

 

If Mrs Hoggarth next door

comes around with her apples,

I'll punch out her lights, no

poison for me today.

 

In case the birds eat the

breadcrumbs, I've shot them

all dead, leave a trail from home

all the way to your bed.