Ten

The night was dark and raining
And the wind made whistling sounds,
The scraggly trees
Were bereft of leaves
They lay scattered across the ground.

The air inside the bedroom
Was cold and dark and thin,
The pelting rain
Beat a loud refrain
On the roof of galvanized tin.

Beneath the sheets and blankets
So the glow could not be seen,
The yellow torch light
Kept out the night
As the boy read his book in its gleam.

He read of bold adventures
And pretended he was there,
He read of ships
That took long trips,
And he read of maidens fair.

He imagined, through his stories
That his bed had sprouted wings,
He’d fly around
And search the ground
Looking for all kinds of things.

Instead of sheets and pillows
He saw chests of pirate’s gold,
He felt warm sea air
So why should he care
That the night was dark and cold?

He flew across mountains and rivers,
He sailed from sea to sea,
He trekked across lands
Fighting beasts and brigands
So the world could be happy and free.

He stumbled upon a hidden cave
And rescued the beautiful queen,
With a tear in her eye
She waved him goodbye
As he jumped in his time machine.

As the words in the book took over
And he turned the page once more,
He rode through the night
To take up the fight
And win, for his King, the Great War.

Then the torchlight flickered weakly,
The batteries were almost spent,
He closed his book
With a satisfied look
And peeked from beneath his tent.

The wind shook the glass in the window,
The roof made a drum for the rain,
He lay his sweet head
Back down on the bed
And dreamed it all over again.

Stephen Munday
June 2000.