A poem and Fletcher Wings part 4

This is a poem I wrote a while ago, inspired by the last poem in the book A Children's Garden of Verses. That last poem always makes me thoughtful and a little sad.

Childhood Home

Where is it,

That one may look,

And see what so long ago was mistook

For everyday life, just the same;

But really was much more than a game?

What now is treasures, away was took

By relentless time, such a crook

Of priceless memories.

All the petty worries,

Late night stories;

All of the past glories.

Where is it,

Where out the dusty back window,

You may spot the old willow,

Where the lilies grow,

Where pixies used to tip toe...

Where were you, fast asleep with soft grass as your pillow?


Well, anyway, I guess I'll post some more of Fletcher Wings.

            I sat miserably on a rug next to a dozen or so hyper little kids, who all were talking at once and drooling. The teacher thought I was a simpleton and treated me like a baby. We were learning stuff I already knew mostly, like counting and letters. I was surprised, because back with the Evenlys, we didn’t start learning that stuff until we were in second grade. Before then we learned discipline mostly. But every now and then, here, I would hear someone mention a battle I had never heard of, or a warrior, or the prince, who sounded much different from the Evenlys’. Despite that, I wasn’t having many ‘oh’ moments. Then came History.

            “Once upon a time the Odds, or Evenlys, as some call them, lived peacefully alongside the Cread.” I raised my hand and asked, “What does ‘Cread’ mean?” The teacher looked at me as though she thought I was joking and said, “That is short for creaduriaid, the Welsh word for creatures, meaning us.” I said, “Oh.” She continued, “At that time the Odds called themselves Humans. They knew about us, a little bit, but weren’t sure. Anyway, they found out. At first they just found out about several children, whose names were Arielle and Zachary. They, the children, saw that the Humans would eventually see that the Cread existed. So they thought it would be best to reveal the Cread peacefully, but, well, for now all you need to know is that something went wrong, and everything became what it is now. You will learn more when you are older and more … ready to hear.” Was it just me, or did her eyes rest on me when she said that? Did they think I would reveal them? I shifted my wings uncomfortably. The rest of the school day went by uneventfully.

            Later Mr. Dwalvin led me outside the school building and through a path up to a formidable looking gate. Inside there were trees and buildings. It was very beautiful because of stone gargoyles, fountains, and Spanish moss hanging down from the limbs of the trees. I had never seen so much plant life besides in the forest. Anyway, Mr. Dwalvin showed me past several large mansions, all of them fit for kings. I began to feel tired and asked at every building, “Is this it?” Every time he answered, “No. Yours is better.” Just when I decided to sleep on the ground and find my room later he said, “Here it is.” I looked up and saw that we were on a cliff. Perched precariously on the edge was a house, if you would call it that. It was a frame of dark wood, with white linen sheets instead of walls. Inside it was filled comfortably with several rooms. Inside was a hammock, several chests of who-knows-what, bottles of spices, maps, model ships, swords, clay sculptures, and millions of random artifacts. Its whole back wall that faced the cliff was gone; instead leaving a balcony with low railings that was entirely wood. The whole place was wonderful. I, after mumbling my thanks, sank into the hammock and was soon fast asleep, my wings around me.

This isn't my best writing. I've really gotten better since I wrote this, but I don't feel like changing much right now.

Anyway, I'll post more tomorrow, maybe, or sometime next week. Keep checking...