Fearless

So I tread on your Lego whilst still in my socks,
and listen when you tell me that I’ve slowed down a lot,
I need a little magic (you say) to keep up,
with your matter of fact honesty, candour and pluck,
then I see the ten years that your parents have aged,
in your three and three quarters of continual rampage,
but sat here with me on our pirate-ship bed
we sail through adventures that swim through your head,
to find buried treasure from wallpaper maps,
then escape from fierce monsters and their fiendish deep traps,
but as danger passes with some biscuits and tea,
I consider our futures and whether we’ll be
still joined at the hip on your wonderful pages,
when your battles are won and this warhorse ages.

© Graham Sherwood 2/2010