Poetry Month day 4. A poem about a mythical creature doing something out of the ordinary for them. For some reason my mind went immediately to the style of a children's book, so here we go.
_________________________________________________Medusa woke to find one day
that all her stones had gone away.
She looked about, up high, down low,
but no results. Where did they go?
Confused, afraid, she packed her bags,
the finest things, no standard rags.
She donned a pair of glasses black
and securely tied the snakes all back.
Aboard a bus she did embark,
sat with a chatty man, and hark!
He'd seen a queer few sights, indeed,
among them all a marble steed.
The Gorgon jumped - she knew that horse!
It must be one of hers, of course.
The man divulged his curious tale,
and from the bus she blazed the trail.
Within the hour Medusa came
to gaze upon an open plain,
and there, the horse, but also more -
her entire collection, stones galore!
Beside the plain there was a lake,
and lying in it, no mistake,
the god Poseidon, her former beau.
A lousier sight? She did not know.
Poseidon spoke in words of silk,
but she knew the tricks of all his ilk.
She didn't care, she made it plain
and instead revealed her twisting mane.
All at once the snakes furled out,
and set their gaze upon that lout.
And once her shades she did remove
he sat as sculptors would approve.
Medusa laughed, a cackling sound,
and moved to gather what she'd found.
She left for home, this day eventful,
her collection now one piece more plentiful.
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