A piece or writing of childhood memories of make-believe games in my grandparents garden |
Dreaming Gardens This shamble of concrete, lawn, haphazard fencing and constructions reminiscent of oriental ideas became my play ground through... Autumn; leaves of battered gold, copper, tinted ruby; sunshine warmth and caressing breeze Summer; roses red and blushing pink; petal headed jewels, links of leaf and stem Winter; ice sculptures rising round and grinning; robin’s road leading to hidden hoards of silver Spring; fountain of cherry kissed magic; sun flaked snow and rings of growth where the pixies go Paving slabs my castle and my prison, my tourney ground and my lookout. Hedges thick as forest grew; doors beyond to my Eden. Driveway lengthened, down which Pilgrims and Templar Knights- Galloping hard they ride to scarper from my sword – two bits of a wood, a foot of red tape. But most I feel the oceans lock, lulling gently, smashing rocks. A lake; a desert impassable; a farm, a city, a village all fit snug yet miles apart. A crowd could not fill it, one man could step over it, a giant slept on it. My world, My Paradise -Illusion |