The Bright Child

Come on,
come away,
said the bright child,
tugging at my winter coat.

Oh again,
there you are,
trying to get me
interested.
Ho Hum
said the coat that
was grey.

Do, said the
angel face,
too beguiling to ignore -
whispers of love and
delight.

Somewhere
in a faraway
ancient place -
a grizzled old rock wall
fell down,
a heap of stones
amongst the
fresh green grass.

The bright
young sprite slipped
into the coat,
that opened a quarter -
welcomed
only by persistence.


© Monika Roleff 2005