parallax

On the shoulder's of Piaget we can see through the trees.

parallax

The child’s eye seizes the power
Of simple paint, draws a stroke
Of naive blue over girded tower
Fading to grey from thumb-smudged chalk.

Small stick lovers suspend
In the smoky air of a crayon sky,
Hand in hand till no journey’s end
Undying in love with an absent cry.

Jake the peg jumps on a plane
Over the waves he flies to Spain
Under the clouds he soars
Racing past the city’s wars
Never did he stop
Even in the end, when
You hoped he’d drop.

Then as our travel is cut short
By the media parallax of switchers
On screens and in daily sport
Making it happen, making it yours

In historic view and with in-exhaustible change,
We await the bright giving narrative of the magi
On a colourful Christmas page.


©daveangel 2001