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It Was Blackest NightTo Steve Mitchell's previous piece     I watched the Poet Laureate on T.V. the other nightTo Steve Mitchell's next piece

In the Fairy Playground

There is a place from childhood 
deep inside 
where wonder lives 
(it never died) 

I found that place with him 

When first I saw him on the floor 
a vulnerable, two-month old blanket baby... 

radiating innocence 
flashing smiles 
and gurgling sweet-singing sounds between sighs 
which tinkled, like silver chimes in my mind 

Time passed... 

We shared circuses, ice cream, cool-evening walks 
He was eighteen months and forming thoughts 
feelings, opinions, questions 
The sky? Yes, the sky. 

He looked into my eyes 
we laughed at his discovery 
and the world was right 
We have lost each other since that night 

In love with the purity and wonder of the boy 
I can still see his angel's face 

in the fairy playground

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