Frabjous ~ amalgam of joyous and fabulous
Fraptious Day ~ a day after which nothing will ever be the same again

*****

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did all the things they usually did.
The Hatter hid, inside his hat,
To snare the dreaded Bandersnatch.

He’d had enough of tea and clocks
And fading smiles from Cheshire Cats.
He was with the belfry bats.

Alice was a windy girl,
Wandering about the land,
Blinded by her flying hair.
She didn’t always seem quite there.

Alice came and Alice went.
Alice went and Alice came.
It seemed a tiring, endless game,
And Hatter always felt the same.

Trapped inside an unsolved riddle.
He wished that they could dance and sing
And fly about and braid her hair
And she might learn to play the fiddle.
Chasing diamonds in the dark,
He might ignite a special spark.

The Hatter had a fervent wish
That Alice, one fine summer day,
Would come to Wonderland to stay,
And never ever go away,
If she would,
If she could.
(He always really thought she should).

But time and age and logic rules.
Alice was severely schooled
In all the things he thought were wrong
(His wish for magic being strong).

The Hatter, so completely mad,
Wanted Alice to be glad
And share her wishes all with him
But she came out when he went in,
And he was very rarely out.

She went she came,
She came she went,
Until the Fraptious Day arrived.
He knew she wouldn’t come again.
The frabjous time had blown away,
And then he knew he was insane.
It came to him as quite a shock.
It was that jolt that stopped the clock.

Love’s a story, very old,
If truth be told,
(and I won’t lie)
Love’s a thing that doesn’t die.

But when the chicks refuse to hatch
And Humpty Dumpty’s egg is cracked
And Alice lost, and won’t come back,
The March Hare screams and runs away.

It’s time to face that Fraptious Day!

The Hatter then removed his hat
And tears ran down his creasy cheeks.
He stood in sorrow in the dark
And faced the sadness in his heart.
He told the Red Queen
(so it’s said)
That she was welcome to his head.
With Alice gone,
Quite gone for good,
The Hatter sadly understood.

He turned the teapot upside down.
He groaned and frowned
And spun the table thrice around,
Which, at the time,
Seemed quite profound
(But only proves that he’s still mad).

He hoped that Alice was alright.
He knew her world could be quite bad.
He had left there long ago.
He knew the clocks there all ran slow.
The trouble was, she might not know.

Alice, through the mirror, looked.
Alice still was not impressed.

In the morning
Hatter dressed.
He brushed his hat
And put it on.
He knows that Wonderland is best.

As for the rest,
Hatter cannot really tell.
Perhaps if fortune casts a spell
All will settle very well.

He scratched his head,
A little vexed,
And thought out loud,
For none to hear…

”Surely wonder isn’t dead!
I’ll ask the Caterpillar next.
We’ll see,
For he’s a day ahead of me.”

(He wiped a tear)

“She was a dear,
A darling dear.”