I close my eyes to the world around
Imagine bumbledrums beating while
and Scree skating on seas of gossamer silk.
My Child ask why I smile,
as Winged Wumpies play tag in my beard.
She too can see the sticking slinkstone and rasping rumbles,
and we laugh as we share the looks of those who forget.
Never stop seeing the vanishing yowies or hearing the yaps of galumphing groops.
When I cannot see them, I 'll know that I'm lost, and only my daughter will bring me my thoughts.
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