Unfinished

Sweet roses and all that wheat

In the baker's pantry all white with flour

Could make you snow blind

We got lost between the trees past that

far, distant hedge,

just beyond the edge,

of our home's garden.

The roses are sweeter here,

And our belly's less full.

It's the cost of adventure you said.

And so is the cold earth for our bed,

mossy and wet- an explorer's bed.

I can't get a piece of that delicious

Fruit on the savory berry bushes grabbing

The ground and our socks with their prickly fingers.

I've tried twice now and the pain still lingers

on my bleeding, stuck fingers.

I miss the orange butter sauces

Of our home's modest larders,

Couldn't we go visit the baker now?

Watch him tie the dough into bows,

then toss it into the brick oven which glows

Red and coal-blackened orange?

Courage, courage little child

Remember your heart's more wild

Than the biggest beast that's loping here

Your face braver than their fiercest sneer.

Still I wish, bigger brother

We could go home to mother

And father and delightfully imagine

In safety: the dragon and its dark, dark cavern.

Orange butter sauce dipped in Ice-creamy

Snow melts which have the effect of

going snow blind in all the white light.

I haven't got a piece of it, that delicious

fruit. The savory berry bushes grabbing

the ground and our socks with their prickly fingers.