Though Leprechauns are seldom seen

We all know their hair is bright green.

They eat Irish stew

Drink much Mountain Dew

And their language becomes obscene.

Rainbow’s end has a pot of gold,

It’s a story we have been told,

When in our preteens

We have lots of dreams

They fade away as we grow old.

—Dragos Tomoiu


There once was a queen kangaroo

That lived in a cage at the zoo

She was always rude

Sometimes even crude

Her child is the cow that can’t moo.

—Alexandra-Maria Popescu


An angel who stands in the sky

Falls by mistake, tries to fly.

Gets stuck in a cloud,

And screams very loud,

Then lands in a fresh, homemade pie.

—Miruna Gafencu


Advice from science fiction writer Ray Bradbury

My friend McCoy was Irish,
He had a small fish,
But once the fish died,
A man ate it fried,
But that was McCoy’s fish wish!
-Toma Munteanu

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore–
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over–
      like a syrupy sweet?
      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.
      Or does it explode?

From the Evanston Public Library