X marks the spot

And there it is! The last poem of my Children’s Alphabet written ( not quite in order!)

And with my agent.

That was fun.

Now to write the companion volume of An Alphabet of children’s poems for Parents…

X MARKS THE SPOT

 

A map must be found

in a cave

Underground

Near a beach on wild seas

Where the water sweeps in

with an unearthly din

And runs all round the cave

With a rush and a roar

Leaving a tangle of weed

On the floor

As the water sucks out..

 

In the weed

Is a bag

Full of salty wet sand

And half buried inside

Is a chest made of wood

Ribbed with iron gone red

Flaking off from the rust

Of the years on the floor

Of the ocean itself

In the dimness and dark.

 

In the chest

Is a map

Rotting now in the folds

Yellow, dog-eared, forlorn,

Crisp to touch, dank to hold,

Of an island

A bay,

A tall ship

A large rock..

 

And right there,

In the centre,

An X

Marks the spot.

 

But what spot

Does it mark?

What is buried down there?

Is it crusty doubloons,

Is it ropes of dull pearls,

Is it wealth beyond dreams

Won through other men’s blood

In a raid or a war?

 

Or is it a curse?

The white bones of a death

That will rise in the light

Of the opening lid

And dance hideous jigs

As they take their revenge

On the unlucky kid

Who revealed what was hid

From the merciless sky?

 

Well; who knows?

Would you be a hero?

Would you be the one

Brave enough

To find out?

Rather you, friend,

Than I!

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