Wish, a poem

Wish

He wished to be a dragoon,
in a colorful uniform,
but the faeries thought he said dragon — 
to them, that seems the norm!

He has no sparking carbine,
he rides no spirited steed;
instead his coat is of scales,
his heart is filled with greed!

Greed for what? Why gold!
And maybe a sheep or two
to snack on when he’s peckish — 
no one will miss a few.

Take care how you pronounce
when you make your wish;
you might want to be a cop
but end up a carp — yes, a fish!

Stephen Brooke ©2025