Dreaming boy

Light rustles the leaves and dartingly speckles the ground on which we lay.

Warmly still in little balmy breezes.  Each of us lost in private dreamy thoughts, only disturbed by buzzing, rustling nature having a busy day.

Sleep creeps up and carries me off into its embrace. Myriad colours clothe my dreams. My dreams of the past, I am safe in my children’s world.

“Once Upon A Time “possesses me as I curl up in my mind and slash valiantly with my trusty sword as the dragon of saint George metamorphoses into the bully of “The Shanghai Gang”.

Bow and arrow ready, pieces of cane, my arrows protect me until my ammunition runs out.  Then I must run hell for leather for sanctuary behind our garden wall or my Mothers skirts, away from the vengeance of “The Shanghai Gang”.

Apples and Pears promise on the trees in our garden do not suffice. And threats of pain do not stop us plundering Slater’s Orchard next door.  Over that fence windfalls seduce us and we dart cunningly to snatch and scamper away; all this amidst the sound of rattles to frighten the birds and puts us all to flight to save the harvest day.

We Ha! Ha! With glee because the snow is here.  Snowballs, what fun. Jack Slater is waiting for us already, ready to get us with snowballs.  His well prepared arsenal, full.  Always accurate, Boing!  He catches us this year once again unprepared.  By the time we scrabble to return his fire he has disappeared, escaped, maybe next year.

My Mews of pain as Shanghai Gang blows buffet my tear streaked face, and I call for help with huge WAA! WAA! Yells.  My Two Ton Tess comes to my aid with arms all a flail like a windmill, and drives off the protestant hordes.

Here on the long green grass with Buttercups and Daisy’s and dandelions that make me wet the bed, we Conker and Cricket and Roy Rogers play.  With toys of tin or pointed fingers we bang! Bang! Your dead and rest some more drifting deep into this hot sunny summer Devon day.