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Goose Girl and the Planets
She buttoned her dress with the moons of the sky,
stitched a small pocket where comets could lie.
Her goose laid a starship one quiet blue dawn—
its hull made of feathers, its engine a yawn.
They charted a course past the curve of the hill,
where Saturn grows roses and time can stand still.
No one believed her—but still, she would go,
with the goose in her arms and her hem lined with glow.
Moral:
Better to chart your own sky
with a goose at your side
than watch the world go by.