Dear Sir

I wonder now if you were ever laid on a loving knee  
Or if such a knee ever was 
or indeed could ever be,

Did the frayed fibres of a worn out bear ever ease your mind and care. 
Or was it only the stories never told but imagined real and whole 
in vivid pictures of colours bold, that had the power to sooth your soul.

Was it the sanctuary of pine pulp scented covers,
were you found peace in the blackest hour 
so as you grew the tease and weave of prose on well-thumbed pages 
outstripped the drive of life and love and wages. 

Were you a child content only in the realm of ink and crafted words 
And in  the shady dominion of plants and birds 
in open field or deep green woods. 

Were you the prisoner of those welded chains, of a life unsettled and uncontained 
who could in no incarnation find the ease and comfort of a still mind.
But ever questing for the want of what lay behind 
the next twist of road or rise of hill. 
It haunted you then and haunts you still 

Did you long to be then Peterkin, Tim or Jim hidden in an apple barrel 
so the noise of life and quarrel  would for a while ease and subside 
in the space and retreat where friends reside.  
Did you live with a mind so sad and frail that it only lives in a poem or tale 

Were you for a while a man of means, or never having the means to be a man. 
but live instead in that realm of the misconstrued and understood. 

A life where processes and successes 
would evade a mind designed to see the beauty of the world 
and the symmetry in written words. 
But understand nothing of the mechanics of a living man.

© Dave Kavanagh February 2016

Books and the outdoors were my sanctuary and sanity as a child and they still are where I find peace to this day.

#depression   #life   #passion   #books   #adhd  #dyslexia  

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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