Sunday, 28 November 2010

Innocence is bliss

i did wonder who she was
as i entered those chipped green gates
all those years ago
chesnut waves bouncing
pink school satchel neatly fastened

thirteen years later
i still wonder
staring back at those same eyes
in the glint of a half-filled champagne flute

has anything really changed since walking through?

her hair is paler
and her lips are painted rose
but still
the same bright eyes blink back
vibrant in anticipation
for the world she decrees

the way she looks
through those eyes
seems little different
from what she saw
fifteen summers ago

but how can all this time
have past; certainties flung
into oblivion
hearts torn
achievements stock-piled
and wounds mended-
and her mind be no different?

maybe she was just born
with an old soul
or perhaps
the best eyes to peer from
really are
those of a child.

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Conceal me in your draw-string bag,

all lily skin, iced heart and plaid.