Wednesday, 8 April 2015

A Poem a Day 2015 (44): Childhood scrawled

Remember when you used to see monsters in the patterns in your curtains, checked under the bed for things that might go bump in the night and found faces in the clouds - well, I still do the last one! 
This one is about that kind of thing.

Childhood scrawled

The world paused upon an echo
And it was just me,
Pointing a finger up at the sky,
Questioning, wondering why;
Would it fall if I asked too much?
Did tears plunge in a tumult of rain?

I decided it best not to ask
In this moment,
Staring wide-eyed as the world moved,
Shifting in its seat like an aged crone
Smothering the air with moronic laughter.

I whisked down my hand in fright,
Far away from the sweeping black crow
Upon whose wings my imagination flew - 
Painting witches and toads riding brooms
As gems dazzled in dark cavern tunnels;
Conjuring spiders spinning silvery silk
By roaring waterfalls of leaping goldfish.

They urged me to play with them all
In a time forgotten to children like me.
Yet in that moment
As I stood frozen in awe
Another hand reached out
To pluck mine own.

It swept me away, back inside
As the world did yield its secret:
What you dream and what you see
May or may not come to be.

copyright Vickie Johnstone

4 comments:

  1. Replies
    1. Thanks, Catherine. And cheers for visiting. Have a cool day :)
      Vickie

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    2. That is beautiful, Vicky. Loved it!!

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    3. Thanks, Candy. I love that you loved it :)

      Delete

Thanks for commenting - have a kitty cool day! :)