Nonsense Poem / Jenna Lancaster


Elephants march down my fingertips
As I tell you a story
Of a torn violet scarf
We will watch high heeled stilettos
Dance across the floor alone
With no help from my feet
Which is good anyway since I never could walk in them
And the women on the cover of those fashion magazines that you
   cherish
And read until the pages fall out
Will wink at us and occasionally wave
And I will sit against red brick walls and sing to you
And rock you to sleep
While the pen will write you a lullaby with a bit of help from the
   notepad
Because pens are not known for being very good spellers
And it will be peaceful
And the records need no player
Because they will sing themselves when my voice tires
And frames need no pictures
Because they are creative and would rather make their own
With pastel colored paints that please the eye
And make old women tell their knitting needles to stop for a moment
So that they can stare
Before they tell the needles to continue knitting them a violet scarf
While they twiddle their thumbs and watch
But I always preferred to listen to the classic books
Read themselves to me
And reveal the secrets within their binding
Although
I must admit
It makes me sad to realize
That with everything helping themselves
They really don’t need me
But you still do, and always will
Because I am the only one who knows
Just what you need, on a cold rainy night, when the kettle is making
   itself some tea
And the rainboots are busy with the coats, dancing together in the
   downpour
And we will sit together and watch
Because a part of you will always need a part of me
Nothing is ever nonsense.

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