Poem about my childhood bedroom

Four flights up.  My room

Is bathed in light.

A school made shelf where rainbow spines jostle.

Each inscribed 606d

A gift to me.

Fairy tales reliant, on being good and kind.

A wooden maiden laid on its side

Whilst I drive

Inanimate friends fill the rungs

Following me

Never questioning our destination.

Pink Panther beams down, as beneath ridged blankets

I dream.  An only child then, but

Never alone.



Orange and blue

Halved the horizon

Down towards the steaming flow

A fragment of fire in the brightening sky.

I am stillness.

My breath

Patient, silent.

From the flow the glistening bird erupted

Climbed and turned

A dream

Kindling towards a memory.