Two little men guarding a grove, their bellies round and smiles wide

She squeezed between the Tweedles and she hurried to the other side

She stumbled past a tea party, brushed past the guests of the Mad Hatter

Disheveled, sitting side by side, with broken teacups on a platter

A looking-glass—a game of chess—the Duchess’s benign caress—

She reached out—just a meter short!—and roughly brushed aside the mess

At last! at last! she saw the waistcoat, gleaming pocket-watch most grand

He raised the trumpet to his mouth and blew the royal fanfare and

She leaned toward him with outstretched hand—

A glimpse of white—a flash of fur—a flapping waist-coat curvature—

For all its worth was just a dream,

But one can never be quite sure…