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short fable series: Petereleon by Mariah Pompa


Oh little me I seem to have grown,

Growling under tables,
I am now throwing my self in to fables,

Bleeding so many words instead of reading them,

 Chicken scratch has morphed into Times New Roman,

 Clean cut documents are beyond the graphite stained pages,

 My old self isn't quite so grown though,

 I still growl under my breath and my fingers are still dirty,

 Imagination still dominates my thoughts from 7:45 to 12:30,

 They're quicker, All consuming, leaving me frazzled,

There's no hope to contain them I just gotta get them all out,

I try different styles and rhymes but still find a simple kind are best,

So yeah little me I've branched out quite a bit,

No longer bound to just the tall grass I've suddenly  grown wings,

Not a griffin or eagle I seem to have grown into something else in between,

Something ferocious, curious, and playful,

Maybe not a sphinx whispering riddles,

Dark mane with tanned wings,

A creature longing for some kind of peace,

I have grown into a beast.



















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