So Dorothy vanished in a trice
The ruby red slippers
Left lying in the ruins of Oz
A monument to what was
And what she left behind
Presumably for the better climes of home.

I often wonder if it wasn’t better
In the land of wicked witches
And flying monkeys, and down
The untrod forks in the yellow brick road.

I’ll miss you the most of all
She tells the scarecrow
He of little brain but courage unbounded
While the Tin Man wept his rusting tears

And then she whisked away anyway
The speeches having resonated
But their echoes no more substantial
Then the whirling smoke left in her gingham
Skirted wake.

And now, back in Kansas, with Auntie Em
A wrap across her skull
The whole thing a dream
But the song she sang implanted
On our hearts forever

In my dream
The house had not yet landed
On the witch;
The munchkins were but potted
Plants;
The road was a twisted yellow
Snail yet to be unspooled

And there you were
At rainbow’s end;
My Wizardess;
Pointing the path to yesterday;
Reminding me of why I ached
And put quill to parchment
In the hopes of knowing why

Damn you for leaving
And not taking me along;
And damn you for not
Making sure the wizard gave me wings
To follow
While he was so selfless
Doling gifts to men of tin and men of straw
And lions who were, in sum, so undeserving.

12/31/2014

Posted on 12/31/2014
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch