Dancing bears, smiling bears, happy bears,
my friends of the quilt Grandma made.
Drape my crouched knees - wipe my tears,
hide the entrance to my dungeon.

Time is infinity - tick! - tick! - tick!
Sixth grade English will be early.

At the striking of the chime I’ll be a princess,
free to dance with my bears.
Away to wild flowered fields
living in the ensouled valleys of my mind.

Me - my bears - our friends of the valley,
cavorting at the striking of the chime.

Cries of a new born tremble the walls -
a soul needing food - mother where are you?
Tingling of glasses, aroma of scotch;
the nauseating smell of cheap cologne.

Daddy’s going to visit his lover;
I’ll play with the bears.

Ominous shadows enter my dungeon,
stench fills the air.
Bears smile and move to the valley;
Striking of the chime.

Barnum Taylor © 1993