Where The Magic Truly Is

Worked out, an early morning,
And then rushed out the door,
And left a tattered yoga mat
Just sitting on the floor.

Came home twelve hours later
My granddaughter was there,
All two years old, who followed me
As I slumped in a chair.

She’d never seen the mat before,
But wide were soon her eyes:
She sprang upon it like a cat,
When, much to my surprise,

She sat crossed-legged on the mat
And rocked from side-to-side:
She pulled the front up in her hands,
And started on a ride.

For what to me was old, a thing
I’d not, in years, examined —
A flying carpet now to her,
And she was

Princess Jasmine