Wednesday, 16 January 2019

boy oh boy

boy oh boy

then spring came carrying frog spawn;
tadpoles to count the summer of days 
stained on grassed knees, red grazed and 
smeared by the sap of the sun-long ways; 
blissfully unaware that he was amazed
when his footsteps trod the ages of all 
boys that ride the corking sun rocket,
stirring the pollen stars to wild abandon
in the golden meadows of his mind. 

many were the keepsakes of his pocket,
plundered of the ransacked day; 
strung of the secrets be-known, says he,
but to a few, flared in nostril, daring-do,
on the edge of the precipice of that first 
homward step, wild on vagabond dust,
loading the turnups of tomorrow’s trousers.

1 comment:

  1. Heartfelt childhood in the arms of poesy.

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