She always kept a spare set of glass slippers
In her back pocket
She had the pumpkin patch on speed dial
A job of a godmother
Isn’t always over when the clock strikes midnight
Flick of her wand
She minds all wounds and mends every tear
Until she recreates a history
That can turn every girl into a princess
And make any rat useful
Yet, she becomes the supporting cast
To a mythical man with a white horse
Every godmother deserves her due
Fairy or not, for these women
are the selfless providers of dreams
She is willing to hide in the background
And aim the spotlight
For she understands, that every tree
Needs roots and a supporting trunk
For the branches to reach up and high
Tuck her wand in her purse
Along with duct tape
And a pack of gum
She tackles the impossible
Life
For every turn
There is a new adventure
A new midnight
And a girl crying on a doorstep
Here comes her fairy godmother
Saving the day
With a smile and flick of her wand
Knowing that her gestures
Will be forgotten
Poetic Trials 