‘Where is Alice’ by Paris Michael

Where was it that Alice went,
One bright and shining day,
A rabbit’s lair, beneath the blare,
A restless child at play,

And where was it that Alice was,
To greet a smoking bug,
Who’s pipe spelled words,
Such tales unheard,
If ever were heard of,

So, where was it that Alice strayed,
To see a grinning cat,
Imagine where her two feet led,
A madder in a hat…

Where possibly did Alice tred,
To come across a queen,
With playing card as private guards,
Such odd, peculiar beings,

Now where on earth could Alice be,
Poor Alice, lost, unfound,
Perhaps she’ll reemerge some day,
From the hole that she fell down.