The Imaginative Creator

Far more than simple

I don’t see what others see.

Show me water and I shall see a waterfall,

Splashing down into a diamond valley,

Filling the buckets of the fairies,

So, they can wash their tiny clothes.

Show me a star and I shall see a lonely soul,

Surrounded by millions and yet so alone,

No embrace from another.

Show me a fork and I shall see a weapon,

One to take out the eyes of your enemies.

Show me a spoon and I shall see a tool,

Needed to dig a tunnel as way of escape,

Perhaps from the dungeon of an evil queen,

Who I offended with my whimsical ideas,

Of how she was in love with the clown,

Who provided entertainment,

At her recent party for the village folk.

Whisper beneath the level of my hearing,

I shall believe you utter incantations,

In a bid to place a spell on me.

A tall tree is merely a climbing frame,

One that will allow me to reach,

The world above the clouds,

Where rainbows are made in factories.

Show me an elder’s heart and I shall show you scars,

Damage endured over a time of torture,

Known none other than life.

Show me the simple and I shall

Make it extraordinary,

I will make it more than it could ever be,

For I am a writer.