Memories of a Lost Child

As you were a child, you know games with shadows,
The darkness and light folds into rabbits,
Crude, but joy in a dandelion heat
When the sun would reply with its own illusions,
Colossal like frenzies, you always delight
In what stories you see in the sky

And there, the simple truths of a duck pond,
With bread in their gaze, the ambitions and sighs
Of the gravebound people are dust to a hunger,
Fills the stomach, enraptures your child
Who smiles from surprise of gifted command

On your frequent wanderings, the footsteps glorify,
You, the prince of your own circled kingdom,
No objects, they are the close companions,
The disciples of all rage and affection,
Without guilt, trial or gods of thunder
Booming with hammers that cannot be heard

All the days, through your thoughts and word,
The stones and pebbles on triumphant beaches,
Could skip and hop and dance carefree,
The fork and knife were your loyal servants,
As they dutifuly laboured at every meal,
The crumbs more human than humans can,
With all their desperate pleading,
And by the act of playful murder,
Victims of cotton lie sprawled across the floor

Then on good night, you rarely saw stars,
But you always got cradled by the page,
The owls would lift you over rivers and lillies,
Willows and brooks, amongst foxes and toads
Conversing in halls with a fluent tongue

And then you awoke! The sun grew cold,
The frozen flames of its hell and heaven
Marked you with a chaliced kiss,
And so he grew older,
Bearing the fathoms,
Gone forever,
In morning,
Cockcrows
Cry...