PAGES:

I pitter-patter into the bookshop, where the world I seek awaits me.

Between the woody-scented covers, a feast to read & see,

Pretty poppies, peonies & pansies in hues of sky & seas,

Lupin-blues & scarlet’s, the gold’s & greens of trees.

Recipes of pumpkins, pecan nuts & purple plums,

Fantasies of dragons, tales of saintly nuns,

Of goblins & fairies, pink moons & pea-green suns,

Of Peeping pixies, bows-n-arrows & cowboys wielding guns.

A polyglot of animals & birds of rainbow prismed plume,

Peacocks & pheasants, disappearing in misty spume,

Of waterfalls & windmills & dragons breath of fume,

Of evil minded trolls hiding deep within the gloom.

I turn the page of mysteries, to the one of fairy glens,

Where princesses bathe their silken toes in mossy petaled fens,

To periwinkled puddles where pearls are laid by hens,

And promises made to break, by little wizened men.

I am gallantly wooed by the Prince upon his steed,

Offered by the Druid, mistletoe & apple Meade,

And by the cockled hippie, a drag of his sweet weed,

As I wonder wistfully, where these pages will eventually lead.

I sit beneath the peppercorn & am shaded by the oak,

Passing to Great Sitting-Bull that peace-pipe for a smoke,

Watching passing oxen beneath the Great Trek´s yoke,

Trying not to weep, nor on sentiment to choke.

Of pirates, pyramids, pillared cloisters & rocket´s blast

Of lingering loves & those that go by far too fast,

I, within these pages, can be of future & also of the past,

As I walk out of the bookshop with memories that will last.