• Peering through the shades of the Small Court home,
    Stands a six-foot lioness with ruby rays of hair,
    Her mane shimmers with prismatic red rainbows,
    As the sunset shines through the windowpanes.
    Ocean waves churn in her feline eyes, sapphire bold.
    She stalks her prey, a small trail of ants in her savanna domain.
    She pounces and morphs down into a little Red Abyssinian.
    The ants scatter.
    She paws them, then squishes them playfully
    As her freckled and pearl-glowing skin is touched by a beach breeze.
    She climbs a furry juniper tree, and brilliant stars twinkle.
    She jumps off and lands as a werewolf, her landing precise.
    The she-werewolf takes off with hurricane speed
    Inside her cave to sleep.
    The rain and thunder lull her into a deep slumber, into dreams of bright emerald valleys.
    Now she is a Golden Chinese Dragon, curled up with ease.
    She is Native American, so she can shift into wondrous creatures.