Young imagination

Imagination

Our garden was incredibly small
It was more like a yard.

The cracked paving was barren and grey
The walls were thick with invading ivy
And the threshold into the grim back alley
A battered blue-painted wooden door.
This garden was tiny, I said so before
But my imagination and I made it so much more.

The walls are no boundary for childish minds
Through the iron bars of reality
Our young speculations broke and fled
The pavement became young soft grass
The kindness feeling harsh upon pink feet
Walls were sweet smelling flowers
Bobbing their heads into our heads
Like ripples into puddles.

My imagination and I ran through
Dark castles, mazes, mazes,
Through steely rippling thunder clouds
The jagged light licking as lasers
Upon the inexistent town.
While up we soared above the clouds
On wings of crafted gold
The sun feeling soft upon my face
Shining through our unseeing eyes.

And suddenly down we swoop
Across the silent shadowy trees
Over the shining silver river
Into the gold sunlit pastures beyond.

The vine engulfed greenhouse
Morphed in the shifting green
Into a great glass palace
The greatest ever seen.
Our old garden shed was a jungle
Of spades and rakes.
The bumble bee were striped planes
Attacking the base in a fury of buzzing canons
And toothing their way through the walls.

So different from reality
A place that was so beautiful
How I wished to stay --
My home.

Yet still time passes and thoughts move on,
Never again will my mind be so strong
To create that whole world at my fingertips.

But still that place is alive in my childhood
Where my imagination was born.