The morning gives a wink,a passing nod
and sods off
to play again in yesterday.
I lay my worries to one side
pry the lid off Monday night
as if the innards of yesterday had invited me
to come and play
a game of hide and seek.
Last week I did the same and was rewarded when the morning came
with a blindfold on my eyes
and mournful cries from Wednesday when it realised the games we play
were lost,
and who could say
when found once more in the morning which had discovered that I wore
pyjamas laced with polka dots?
Each anniversary of Sunday,Tuesday,any day where night comes out to play
in the nursery
where the dreamers and the children stay
and the lemon socks of half eaten sticks of rock will stick tight to tiny toes
I tap my fingers on the window pane
I want to play in yesterday again.
Who knows the secrets that we find when rummaging within the mind and yesterday is often kind,
much kinder than today.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:33 PM UTC
The morning gives a wink,a passing nod
and sods off
to play again in yesterday.
I lay my worries to one side
pry the lid off Monday night
as if the innards of yesterday had invited me
to come and play
a game of hide and seek.
Last week I did the same and was rewarded when the morning came
with a blindfold on my eyes
and mournful cries from Wednesday when it realised the games we play
were lost,
and who could say
when found once more in the morning which had discovered that I wore
pyjamas laced with polka dots?
Each anniversary of Sunday,Tuesday,any day where night comes out to play
in the nursery
where the dreamers and the children stay
and the lemon socks of half eaten sticks of rock will stick tight to tiny toes
I tap my fingers on the window pane
I want to play in yesterday again.
Who knows the secrets that we find when rummaging within the mind and yesterday is often kind,
much kinder than today.
Request permission to use this poem