Dozing In The Children’s Section

8 July, 2008 at 14:10 (Uncategorized)

(With Apologies to Charles Dodgeson)

The pillow is white and your lips are red,
there is something, perhaps in what Snow White said.
The gentle curve of your mouth…
we’ve grown up together, though I am far older than you,
but the way your mouth looks against the pillow,
reminds me of how it was before we met, we two.
When you were a boy in the woods, and I was a girl in the garden.
You lie there on the pillow, showing your old self to me,
and I am thrown suddenly back to that time,
when all I had to do to be, however I wanted to be,
was follow the little labels, and eat and drink to be,
however I wanted to be.

Your lips against the pillow, easy and parted,
there is something in what Buttons said to Cinderella,
before they had started, what they never started,
When you were a boy, dragging your bear,
and I was a girl brushing my hair, before we’d never met,
in this unreality we made, before they had us go to London,
before they gave us some road paved with gold, or yellow bricks,
or whatever pleased their dreaming trips, knowing nothing of us.

Your lips,
red against the pillow,
that gentlest curve of your mouth,
and I am in the garden again and you are in the woods,
and I am moving the pieces, trying to become a queen,
and you are heading inexorably to that place where you must
lie, to your friend and leave the woods,
‘Hello Kitty’ I said to Dinah,
As you were going away, and nobody knew why,
or at least that’s what you had them say.
Your lips are slightly parted and your breathing comes easily now,
and I’m dreaming of those places,
as I drift in the here and now,
wondering where his face is,
that man who started me along this path,
moving all the pieces, trying to become a queen,
I swore that I would thwart him,
swore I would be seen and moving, phantomwise,
haunting him all his life, the way he has haunted me.

MY BOAT beneath that sunny sky,
It lingers onward dreamily,
Children playing in July –

Hoping, we have nestled near,
Eager eye, and willing ear,
Longing that simple tale to hear –

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Now I’ll haunt him, phantomwise,
Never seen by waking eyes
– still listening under skies.

– a child yet, the tale to hear,
– my eager eye, willing ear,
Lovingly, I’ll nestle near.

In Wonderland I’ll lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Lingering in the golden gleam –
Ever drifting down the stream
– what is life, but dozing dream?

I nearly said your tale was sadder than mine,
but then I remembered how he wrote,
and perhaps my tale is sadder than thine,
I came home and you went away, but my tale ends on a dying July,
and you could never find the words to say,
but instead made your friend a faithful knight,
and crowned yourself the king of all the woods,
whilst I, became a Queen for real, but in the confusion of a dream…

We doze then, the pillow between us, your lips in front of my eyes,
and you struggle to say the things,
that I never had the tact to struggle for,
‘…whatever happens, you will understand, won’t you?’
But there is nothing to understand,
so let us doze then, you and I,
your red lips under July sky,
slightly parted and we are, forever,
playing with water pistols,
in some enchanted forest,
going…
oh, anywhere.

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5 Comments

  1. rose_cain said,

    oooh….niiice….

  2. lucrecia said,

    WoW…. an absolute mine of glorious imagery…. I Like….

    • luvlymish said,

      Thankyou, I wasn’t sure if it was a bit too much and I can practically hear Foo proclaiming that it’s all far too obscure for him.

      • moradrel said,

        Obscurity’s okay if the reader can imagine what’s being referenced, even if they don’t imagine correctly. This one has that dozy quality that allows the obscure to slip by unnoticed.
        I like it, in other words.

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