Fear Not The Jabberwock

I softly pad my way

windaweaveling through the loamish wildings

full wareness this reach I journ

tis outlanding propriety

knowing well the elden-ones foreveren dissuade

we nubilets stay away

disallowed everen venture this region

of the darper forest

neveren to the pool at the fottom of the aquafell

worry not the jabberwock

worry stead, for it is there wilden maned larns

leap and eat young femines

no, tis grievous feathwinged creatures

swoove and clarch young femines

nay, tis slimpery serplines from the darpest depths

surge up and chelmp young femines

it beknowns itself to me

that as I evellup in womanous shape

so too these tales evellup with me

yearly a scarier monster lawaits

and all disobedient evelettes who dare

bedeffen claritious warrings

who dare disbay

the elden, wisen and protecten ones

but the tales in alarmity fail

to keep pace with my bravity

and I see their weaverings

for the destatments that they truly are

for what they seed and what they sprout

contraposes and become

sweet invitlings to me

with a crop of curiosity and not a seed of sense

I pad out, the darpest wildings my mark

weave my way through pricklings and green most quietly

though I know not why I need be

all day I travel till at last the crashing of the aqualfell

pounds in my ears

I am joyous in my discovery

and fearful in my discovery

what waits for me behind this curtain of green

larns? serplines? feathwinged?

just wisen tales, agree?

I kneedrop to the soil

and fill my breast with breath

then slowly exhale

reach a shaking hand and pull

back the foliage veil

I am ready for all manner of beast

save this

and for the first time in my silent trek let out a little gasp

there splashing and wrestling in the pool

there bathing in the aqualfel are beasts of

luscious note

a man perhaps but interbred an animal of brawn

unmistakable in his flashing mane and coat an iridescent fawn

I can not peel my eyes away as I watch them prad and prance

something in them makes my breath come quick

something in them makes my core burn hot

all sinuet and rippling wet

though carved by a great sculptor

but they are real and very much alive

and that something in me

begins to be afraid

before I had felt so eveful and strong

now quaking at my own reaction within this nubilet frame

knowing now of what I must be wary

I realize even mesmerized

I must not tarry

though surely none had heard nor seen

this evelette hidden in the undergreen

still respectless,

snicker for the eldonones who tried disway

protect me from what?

this glorious gaze?

with cock combed thoughts I believe I've foxed these virile beasts

slowly take back my peds

planning to retreat never to share

this day

and this eye and mind filled treat

I will go back and play the evelette sweet

not wisen to the keenness of the animal olfactory

I have no knowing the screaming scent of our kind

no clue as to an evelette's perfumed ripeness

till a crack of twig crushed loud, half step behind