The Enigma of Worlds
Only a crossword I could not complete,
only a puzzle I could not solve,
only a carousel I am too old to ride on,
I can only stand and watch it revolve.
Sometimes I wonder if I had a better brain
would I have the wit
to work out the enigma of worlds,
see where all the fragments fit,
but I fear that I may not cope
with what I may gain.
And what was that from the corner of my eye,
I saw as I felt winter passing by?
A little man who was not human
in a white smock, boots and cap,
like someone I saw before I fell into a nap.
It was proof you can enter Faerie in the street,
not just where woods and mountains meet.
In that land old men with beards are revered.
It may sound weird,
it is because they may or may not be a wizard,
some of them holy and favoured,
others fallen, to be feared.
Mother, take me to see the hens,
back to when I scrawled with pencils,
doodled with pens.
Leave me there, alone,
and I will make it back again
to whoever I am now.
The long forgotten fairy tale
in my mind will never pale,
its seas await for me to sail,
its lanes lead to who knows where?
The wise owls still live in the tower.
The sound of the sea in a shell,
the bell that rings in the well
will lead me there.
How can you upset an apple cart?
It has no feelings for a start.
I know that saying,
I am only playing.
Best to smile before we part.