Small Heavens

[When you read this, if you can, try listening to Vangelis' "P.S." from his Voices album.
Link to Song]

when I was small

I dreamt up that ladders were magic

that if you climbed up

really fast

that they'd take you somewhere

else

some magic spells

would whisk me far away

silver bells and cockle shells?

right?

somewhere over the rainbow?

the places only the fairies know?

but no fairy came to take me hand-in-hand

and the world is far more dark 

than Yeats could ever understand

and magic and gods eventually died

so I made small heavens

here

in small places

left toadstool pebbles

and rhinestone wishes

in every corner of the house

and slung about my neck

like a broken dream reforged into living hope

it was my way to cope

a small rope to tether me here

lend me scope for the future

they're small things

mundane

they don't promise far off paradise

or salvation in the darkest of times

but they do lend small breath

so Puck was at once real

with secret kisses 

and silly notes tagged on his horns

as we lay in the leaves under an autumn tree

as he read

and therefore is Love said to be a child

because in choice he is so oft beguiled

and in small moments

in tiny places

hidden away in secret cases

locked up in far cupboards

I kept that shard of my heart

that still sees wonder

and amazes at small things

how flowers turn to the sun

how ladders become doors

how a child can disappear in the leaves

-o0o-