OF BOOKS AND POEMS AND FANTASIES AND CABBAGES AND KINGS


Let’s keep fairies at the bottom of our gardens,

Let Harold’s purple crayon never tire,

As Max and all his wild things play,

We’ll hear little tales told by the fire.


Did it start for you with Goodnight Moon,

And the clock that really kept time?

Did you follow the mouse on its journey that night,

And fall in love with the rhyme?


“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.”

Says an old, but cynical sage,

But prose, song and poetry make wishes come true,

As the magic spills off of the page.


Let our hearts be ripe for mystery,

(There’s a secret on Roan Inish),

A girl rides a whale off a New Zealand beach,

As enchantment begins with a wish.


There’s no end to the magic our minds can behold

If we could be as children once more,

The willows bend, the dream begins,

Small feet dance on a gold-dusted floor.



May magical kingdoms arise once again,

Through the wardrobe to Alsan we go

Now Smaug breathes his fire to vent all his ire,

And Puff lives to watch Jackie grow.


Watch closely by the riverbanks,

Where Ratty and Mole might be seen

Christopher Robin’s at Buckingham Palace,

He went there to see the Queen.


Now Christopher Robin is six evermore

And plays Poohsticks again at the stream.

We went there one day and Poohsticks did play,

Pooh’s bridge is not part of a dream.


Something’s amiss in Nottingham Forest,

Lothlorien’s fading, it seems,

But One Hundred Acre Wood’s a place we can stroll,

And pretend that we’re real Kings and Queens.


Ships and sails and sealing wax,

Ruby slippers and Toto and friends,

Can enchant through the years, bring us laughter and tears,

The beginning’s as good as the end.


Hansel and Gretel can find their way home,

Past the wonderful land of Oz,

Where Scarecrow and Dorothy exclaim with delight

And lions don’t sharpen their claws.


Could Frodo and Sam play Quidditch at ten

With Gryfindor’s Harry and Ron?

And Hogwart’s Great Hall is at Oxford’s Christ’s Church

Near where Tolkein and Lewis have gone.


Hobbit homes, so inviting, carved deep in the hills,

Arwen’s beauty, Galadriel’s charm,

Black Riders at night, Sauron’s ready to fight,

Middle Earth’s not quite safe from all harm.



Let’s make real the depth of our imagery,

Light the candles as day turns to night,

Settle down with a book, don’t let dreams pass you by,

Like a moth, you’ll be lead to the light


Where dreams of Camelot come back to us all,


Filled with princesses, dragons and knights,

Just open your book, and lie back and look,

You’ll find things won’t go bump in the night.


From Rowling to Grahame to Margaret Wise Brown

Stories linger, our grandkids to see,

They remain through the ages, more millions of pages

Than rivers rolling down to the sea.



Hold fast to your dreams and your fantasies,

The enchantment they bring’s solid gold

When the years take their toll, silver- gray is your crown,

In your hearts you will never grow old!

Virginia Atkinson

 

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