Sunday, 8 November 2020

pram rides through miniature worlds

 

Mother knew the child’s mind

how still emergent, a pearl

remembering the clam,

the child’s mind echoes

with the twilight sounds of the womb.

 

No one needed to explain to mother

the child’s mind

preferred miniature marvels

to the titanic artifacts man creates

almost in defiance of that earlier, innocent state.

 

For the day’s special journey, Mother

would ready the pram

then she and I would roam the neighbourhood

visiting the sacred front gardens

created for a child’s delight.

 

Tiny cottages hidden between towering flowers,

a windmill beside a pansy,

lakes large as two ice-pole sticks laid

end to end, two storey houses

for beetles and bugs to inhabit.

 

For hours she pushed me

around the streets visiting each of my favourites

or discovering a new one,

houses and bridges smaller than a moth’s wingspan

waiting for eyes to feast where feet could not.

 

At night, in bed, the walls cracking in the heat,

staring up at the ceiling, imagined

inhabiting a motionless miniature setting

still and silent, bloated with expectation,

safe in time and space.

.


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