© 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
To guard against fantastic fiends
Or djinns our parents cannot know
Beyond belief in things unseen
Not ever me, I will not grow
Or watch as castled clouds on high
Give birth to lions, dragons, too
From safety crouched behind the hedge
Go 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.
As days passed by I reached fifteen
An age beyond all myths and toys
Recalling nine in wistful dreams
Far from my life of lipstick, boys
April 11, 2016 at 10:50 pm
Me too…
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