I have been each the four of you –
Spent seconds thinking what you do.
A sweet shop kid; gumdrops or mice?
What I choose has been thought of twice.
First is talking, meandering,
No orator’s address – a spring
Based on a thousand flooding thoughts
Considered out loud for the court.
The Court: this one’s ears a soundboard
In silence for tiredness absorbs
Each word, and shuts cast iron lock
On every memory full box.
They would wish the memories toys –
Babbling musically, but noise
Runs behind this Child’s thoughts of cloud –
Great towers! Bowers of fruit! Loud…
Alright, little boy, see your dreaming
Make a step, take two. Towering
Fruit bowers in your little hands –
Now sticky. Perhaps I misplanned.
Each word and thought here could be mine;
Some curse, some blessing. Well, with time
There will come a shape formed whole,
And this sweet shop kid is thankful.