/week freePoem #9708
Bicycles of Chocolate Eclairs
The golden age is tumbling down the stairs,
Riding a bicycle made of chocolate eclairs.
Soon the triangles will soften into spheres,
And giggle away all our rectangular fears.
The clocks will run backwards to fetch us a treat,
While carpets sprout daisies right under our feet.
Oh, the future is bright as a neon giraffe,
Who only communicates using a laugh!
We will dine upon clouds served on invisible plates,
And juggle our worries alongside the dates.
The cats will bark softly, the dogs will go meow,
And the concept of sorrow will vanish somehow.
We will dance in a soup of spaghetti and gleam,
Awake in a perfectly sensible dream.
Let us toast to the morrow with glasses of fog,
And skip through the sky with a levitating frog.
Riding a bicycle made of chocolate eclairs.
Soon the triangles will soften into spheres,
And giggle away all our rectangular fears.
The clocks will run backwards to fetch us a treat,
While carpets sprout daisies right under our feet.
Oh, the future is bright as a neon giraffe,
Who only communicates using a laugh!
We will dine upon clouds served on invisible plates,
And juggle our worries alongside the dates.
The cats will bark softly, the dogs will go meow,
And the concept of sorrow will vanish somehow.
We will dance in a soup of spaghetti and gleam,
Awake in a perfectly sensible dream.
Let us toast to the morrow with glasses of fog,
And skip through the sky with a levitating frog.
Prompt: 3 happy poems about better times
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