As a boy

As a boy

A hole in the hedge

At the bottom of the garden.

I crawled inside

Hiding out for what seemed like hours

Watching Mum put the washing

On the line

I believed I was invisible.

The light filtering through

From outside

Played in silvery patterns

Where snails had crawled

On the powdery soil

There were spiders

That didn’t seem to be

Too put out

By my intrusion

Going about their business

Weaving intricate designs

Stretched between the twisted stems

Of Privet.

I guess it was dirty

But it was luxurious

To believe I was alone

And unseen

Whilst being so close

To the world outside.

There were no flowering plants

And few weeds,

Even the Woodlice were wary

Of being overexposed

I didn’t like the idea

Of Centipedes

All those creepy little legs

Rippling

Perhaps a Robin lived in there

But if it did, it kept itself scarce

As my mind wandered

Off into the distance

As far as Shangri-La.

Where, once upon a story

On top of the world

The Abominable Snowman

Would tumble around

The Mountain

Leaving a trail

Of massive footprints

Nobody could follow.

Not even Sir Edmund Hillary

Without getting lost

And finding themselves

In a secret city

A lost world.

Perhaps if I didn’t crawl out soon

I would grow old

Very quickly and turn to dust

There was quite a lot of it about

In the underworld.

Perhaps that was where

All the little children

Were transformed into stuffy

Grown-ups

With nasal hair

And leather-patches

On their sleeves,

Who didn’t like to make a mess

Or have a picnic,

With a bottle of pop

And a jam sandwich.

I didn’t much like that idea

It was too much fun being a kid

Better to crawl out

Before any black magic happened.