The Goldilocks Project

Walt Whitman’s Goldilocks and the Three Bears

I hear the song of bears, strong bears, family bears.

I hear them sing of porridge, with steam rising from carved bowls.

I hear them sing of walking, on forest paths, past the beasts who hide in invalid fear.

I hear them sing of home, the return home, with hope of perfect breakfast.

I hear them sing of empty bowls of lost dreams.

I hear them sing of broken chairs, of dashed hopes.

I hear them sing of occupied beds, heavy with invading sleep.

And then one last song, a sign of shock, or discovery

And then silence.

And then a song of windows and girls

And then a song of wonder.