Sunday, 9 November 2008

puff the magic dragon

she cried
when i sang
puff the magic dragon
not because my voice
lilted in spots...
not because my hands
cradled the guitar
with ease ...
nor because these things
made a harmony

not for any of these reasons

but because the boy
had grown up
and life was not of dragons
and such adventures ....
no time for high sea
or playful autumn mists
and so alone puff
retreated into his cave

she cried for this
and said ....
with all the fire it brings
and upturned boats
with all the strings
and ceiling wax
and all the fancy other stuff
along the way
our puff the magic dragon
shall have a place to stay