Beasts

What happened to the dreams I had,
And the beasts I thought I knew?
Those magical, mystical, wonderful beasts,
That were kept at London Zoo.

There’s no mention of a gwif inside,
Or a terrible razor tusked boar,
As I entered through the old zoo gates,
I began to feel unsure.

Where was the three-clawed tindersnaff?
Whose image was etched on my mind,
And surely an eight-foot kalub bird,
Couldn’t be that hard to find.

Could it be true, I thought to myself?
As I passed a bear on my right,
That my brother had spoken of mythical beasts,
Just to keep me from sleeping at night.

I asked a man, a little embarrassed,
If he knew where the gwifs could be found,
The man didn’t answer; he half closed one eye,
Looked at me strangely and frowned.

His youngest son was stood at his side,
And removing his cap calmly said,
I can tell you where the gwifs are Mister,
They’re living up here in my head.

It’s then that it dawned on my ageing brain,
Why these beasts were so tricky to find,
I’d grown up too quick that they’d gone off to live,
In a far more adventurous mind.

©RS2011