Playground of our old school is awonderland of rising hillock with
steep sides abounding in small
holes turned into fairy dells
I swept them with a broom
exposed coloured stones
leaf decorated, artfully
arranged fir tree needles
I remember fresh smell, sunbeams
glistening in dust, beauty of my
fairy valley, joy and peace
played alone, by myself
The dream of creating fairyland
lingers on in glittering fairy
figurines next to
my bed
Pasting fairy pictures everywhere
changing every space into a
magical place
****************
The memory was triggered when I reread
Momo by Michael Ende:
Time Thieves took the time away
gave kids detailed robots and other
gizmos leaving no room for imagination
only Momo and her friends played with
ancient boxes and wooden sticks in the
honoured way, old debris became
anything they wished
Michael Ende “Momo” K. Thienemanns Verlag
Stuttgart 1973
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