My First Book

The cardboard covers of crimson laminate
are redeemed by daring figures dancing
to the rims
And the dim reflection of my eager face.
An enigmatic incense burning from the pages
revive fractured dreams of sylvan milk.
Musings spun on whispered wings
layered like strata; yield to peeling breezes.
I sniff intently on the quest,
Flowing forever between beginnings. . .
a river from mountain to sea
Anticipation. . .
Consumed by the smouldering of thought
from the misty depths of imagination
The black words forage for purpose
like ants on the forest floor
moving eternally into all directions


pushing at the crumbs of comprehension;
rambling into the lanes of
a glorious sun
which strokes
the darkness of the forest depths
where
a green shoot flares into a
crimson flame.

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