The Poem I Wrote In the Early Hours of the MorningPosted: 11 November 2011
For a Library.
My soul is like a book;
woken in the morning by the Jolly Postman
and nurtured in the loving arms of Enid,
amid the snows of Narnia.
Looking out into cold reality it saw
hope and endless possibility;
because it found Charlie’s golden ticket and
saw the green world through the eyes of Mole
on that first Spring morning.
Like Bilbo it rushed out without a clean hanky
and made windows with Stig out of jam-jars,
but always came home for tea at Mister Tom’s
because it had a place to belong.
It rose like a seagull riding the thermals,
lifted up by the power of the story.
In Dickens it found a tutor,
in Miss. Eyre it found the inspiration
to reach out with both hands until it knew
how blessed it was to hold Shakespeare,
to understand Chaucer.
When it struggled it was not alone.
It went to Mordor with Frodo and Sam.
It rejoiced in a happy ending and learned
that laughter would heal any wound.
It learned how to banish its demons.
So close a library.
Tell yourself that it is not a hospital or a police station.
No one will die if it is not there; only imagination
and a quiet soul in the corner,
crying for a life diminished.
Photo credit: Monika at Small Packages
The illustration is by the late great Pauline Baynes, who drew Narnia for me.