For my mind is filled with remembrance for:
four and twenty blackbirds baked and pie’d;
Pied Piper piping, gathering his corps;
The lore of a miss ‘for a spider spied,
spied, in the throws of the sun; tumblin’,
tumblin’ Icarus, yes — that very one;
One boy, one dame, one lord, one black sheep kin;
Kin and king cursed with golden fingers won;
One hero with golden fleece in open hand;
Hand waking our John-a-late-for-matins;
Matin-bells ringing, ringing through the land;
Land, shaped, formed by Blue Ox and Bunyan,
Bunyan’s mighty ax taming earth and sky;
Sky, set to call, a storied list to mind’s eye.

© rl busséll 2018 – All rights reserved

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

“Fairytales are more than true; not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten” — G.K. Chesterton

The stories of our childhood stay with us forever. They are our companions, our boon, and the boon we give to others for by them we are shaped. Tell stories to your children; write upon their souls.