The little girl

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Up and round, spiralling on

the well-worn sandstone steps.

Flowery turret room with narrow window,

three steps up to a four-poster bed,

a child's fairytale delight.


Dreaming all night in the company 

of a pretty laughing little girl,

with long pinafore dress, wide lace collar,

fair hair tied in a blue ribbon bow,

many petticoats, and tiny soft kid boots


Straight outside to tease the green frogs

in the lilypond, chase each other in the maze,

'once right, then left', she knew it well.

Big creaking swing on a low oak branch,

long daisychains, fuchsiaflower dancers,

seeking greenlit glow-worms in the grass,

and foxglove thimbles for all ten fingers,

 the simple games of country children then.


On waking, steps down and round again,

noticing a painting of the pretty girl

smiling beside the lilypond.

'That's poor little Daisy,

she died of a fever many years ago,

in that little turret room you had.

They say her ghost appears sometimes'.


What playmate now?

Will she be lonely?




◄ Bureau'rats

Old age ►


jennifer Malden

Fri 5th Apr 2019 22:13

Hi Ray! Nice to be in touch again! Thanks for your embarrassingly generous comment. I just can't keep up with your output! The awful truth is also that it is all at least good, and often brilliant. This seemed to me a bit feeble, but if you enjoyed it ...............

Thanks also Don, Desmond and Jon, for the comment and the likes. Very encouraging.

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Thu 4th Apr 2019 19:57

At last something I can comment upon Jennifer in return for all your support! Completely captivating trip like a miniature of the mind with every step traceable in delight. Right from the off I imagined a similar outcome; hovering between a gothic miasma and the magic of children.

A superb vignette of a poem.

Ray x

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Don Matthews

Wed 3rd Apr 2019 22:49

I like this Jennifer

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