Games at dawn

Poem by Roger Iredale

Children are the throats of blackbirds
easing laughter out of half-light. Dawn
raises curtains and the play begins. Trains
emerge from skirting-boards, dinosaurs
bark circles on the rug, while an army
racks the carpet with its tiny dead.

Words bubble out of mouths, filling
space with myths and legends:
monsters, adventures, unstoppable
endless explorations in the land
of make-belief, where fairies bite
witches, and imagination is for ever.

Brains magic words. They mingle
tales endless as galaxies,
wilderness unlimited by reality.
This the place where life begins,
angels enter the soul, the mind explores
joyous woodlands by the crazy sea.

---

Comments

Please login to add a comment