I want to tell you a story
A story I make up
As I go along
As if you were two
And I, your mom

My mom did just that you know
Told me tales that were tall
You could barely touch them
And yet they held us in thrall

There were fairies and lions
That flitted and roared in turn
Colours that filled our mindscape
And never was the palette ever done

The wonder and the mystery
They came in different forms
Often creeping through chemistry
With its un-memorisable norms

Do you remember Mr. Anthony,
The accountant who was anti-mon(e)y
Untrustworthy to the last,
The count of 51, yet 121 amassed

The stories came from deep
Where fantastical beasts
And ordinary fowl and more
Oh so human in their beliefs

The stories came to comfort
Or shake us from our sleep
Or so I thought if I pondered
As I sought to count traditional sheep

They stay with me still,
Forgotten though through mists
A place of escape and comfort
When life bedevils with lists

And now when I see you so
With your brow furrowed to bits
I wonder if you need a story
That’ll make you laugh in fits

I wish I could tell you her stories
The ones made up on the go
But she was the one with the magic
Once off, and it would flow

As we laughed our way through words
Untouched by the soil below
We knew we’d have this world
Of wonder brought to know.

(c) MeetaSengupta


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