Mariposa

Mariposa the lioness lived near a dusty road,
In a meadow full of flowers where magic often flowed.
But this lioness was different; her wings were purple bright,
Grown from sniffing fairy dust beneath the stars at night.

Each morning she would wander out, her nose high in the air,
Sniffing for that fairy trail that sparkled everywhere.
With one big whiff, her wings would sprout, and soon she'd start to soar,
But controlling them? Well, that's a tale you might find quite a bore.

For every time she tried to glide, she'd wobble in the sky,
Her wings would twist, her paws would spin, and off she’d start to fly.
One day, she sniffed a little much and flew up far too fast,
She looped and swirled and zigzagged ‘round, unsure how long she'd last.

With no one there to help her land, she tumbled down with grace,
And landed, plop, in dusty dirt, right on her lion face.
She shook it off, her wings now gone, the fairy dust worn thin,
And muttered to herself, “Perhaps I shouldn’t sniff again.”

But still, each night beneath the stars, she'd hunt that sparkly glow,
For flying, even badly, was too fun to just let go.