If I found a genie bottle washed upon the sand,

With shaking hands I'd break the seal of polished wax,

The djinn within appearing when I polished with my hand

The bottle showing age and wear with all its cracks.

Three wishes I'd be offered, as legend doth foretell

The djinn grinning benignly as he waits for my reply.

His chainéd arms both lifted to start to cast the spell:

Riches, beauty, or honor that lifts me to the sky.

I hope that in that moment, when he waits for me to speak

I'd have the uncommon sense to close the bottle up,

Not needing undue honor or a change in my physique

And knowing gold means not as much as a single buttercup.

I'm a college junior who has Lymes Disease and a wonderfully large, crazy family. My mother taught me to love writing passionately and care about things like Oxford commas. My favorite worlds to write fanfics about are BIONICLE, Star Wars, Middle-Earth, BBC's Merlin, and the Lyra novels.