Dad’s sweatshirt transforms into a velvet cape,
draped over my shoulders.
I flourish a stick I found in the yard
in front of an appreciative plush audience.
Passing it over a hat I found
for a quarter at a garage sale,
I conjure flying silk squares,
and moon white rabbits
that do somersaults,
and sing songs dryads taught them
back when the world had plenty of magic beans.
But when I bring my wand, hat, and cape
to the school talent show,
when I stand alone on the stage,
all that I find in my hat is rabbit poo.
This poem was inspired by a prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens for Real Toads: Weekend Mini Challenge, Following a Thread