Half a Tale

Half a page of half a book,
half a page, an illustration.
The words are missing.

There once was verse,
there once was rhyme,
I think.

But that half of the page
went missing,
that half of the book
is missing.

All that’s left is half a page,
an illustration,
the back end of a horse,
a pantomime horse,
a second hand role
that no one wanted.

Toy swords were raised
and spurs got buckled
damaging our opening pages,
leaving the past to illustration.

Time got caught
in the slam of the lid
of the box on the loft
that we left behind us

Half a Tale

under the quilt, the patchwork quilt
we landed on
in a time of play
on a carefree day.

But that half of the page,
that half of the book
is missing.