© 2016 Barbara Grace Lake

Ah, nine, a happy perfect age,
For laughing, playing, make believe
My playmates, some are even real,
assist in building fortress eave

As king or queen and even mage
We rule this realm of wondrous nine
As doughty knights we fight with zeal
With cardboard sword or carabine

Or watch as castled clouds on high
Give birth to lions, dragons, too,
So safely crouched behind the hedge
Then charging forth all bandits strew

Invincible we occupy
A special place, a private den
From which we make a solemn pledge
Whatever else, we won’t be ten.