I dreamt!
We flew to the moon on a hay bail
With helmets made of tin pails
Like one of Enid Blyton's fairytales
It was a tale of tall tales and
Long Tails and Wide Trails and Wine Vales —
Of White Sails and Steel Nails and house sales
And Letters in the mail.
Together we roamed endless beaches of shale,
And trekked, over mountain and vale
In an exalted search of the holy grail
they advertised in the sunday mail
the other day — but to no avail.
So we turned back, hearts euphorically frail
And hitched a ride with a humpback whale,
He took us as far as Themis’ Scales
Who then sent us home via airmail
And now I fall awake, as time moves like a snail
And outside, the rain turns to hail
While the freshly baked sourdough goes stale
And in the dark, your skin is pale,
Under your shirt, the colour of kale
And I fall awake again, and inhale.
Written while waiting in the cold
by o.e.l 14/06/23