by Kyla Diane Sharp
I sit upon my golden bed,
I stare into my rattled head.
Visions of another world appears,
I fear the end may soon be near.
Gnomes, fairies, and little green men,
They danced with me when I was ten.
I once loved a man, so sweet,
He bowed before me and kissed my feet.
Unexpectedly he disappeared beyond the clouds so high,
So, for now, I sit upon the stars that fly.