May Day

I feel so terribly small.
Alice in what's this land
and soon I'll find the thing that makes me grow.
Shrinking, shrinking,
rabbit, help me!
Oh dear,
oh my,
he's late,
he's off.
The grass is blue and
there are marmalade daisies.
Each petal is the size of my torso.
I want my size again.
I want the grass to not be a forest;
what is that clearing ahead?
The sectioned body of a caterpillar
resting in the seat of a lily ahead.
His head is large and lazy,
wise eyes, slow mouth
smoking rings the size of hula hoops.
The smoke is sweet and doesn't
burn this time.
Mr. Caterpillar makes glass of my eyes
and clouds of my head.
But he makes my skin lucid.
I am bright and
I want my size again;
these tingles are too much for little body.
Those bottles say drink me
but I think they mean to shrink me.
I feel so terribly lonely with
wise old lazy pillar
speaking in puffs and pulls
but never in words.
Where is my mad hatter?
Where is my tea?
He's mad and I can smell his blood
with this tiny nose.
It's hot and it's fast, and
he'll fly to me when I need him.
He'll make me grow fast, like it or not.
He does it with hands and mouth
and favorite cheshire cat words.
We will climb trees til we're too big,
and I'll run fast and far with him.
In my pretty ripped blue and
we'll drink tea on our scraped knee tables.

Keep the Queen of Hearts away,
she makes me feel little.