G abardines …

 

»I am so tired, mum. My feet are aching«, Nigel is moaning. »Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?«

»Shut up, son«, Kylie is shushing. »I think I heard his voice. I heard him speak. Maybe Bromford is just around the next corner.«

»I bet there is just a dangerous riddeling sphinx around the next corner of this hedge labyrinth«, Nigel complains. »Or some kind of jinxed wizard who wants to win some weird magical tournament or just his Quidditch field back.«

»What did you say?« Kylie asks combing some leaves from her hair with all five fingers of her left hand.

»Nothing, ma. Let's just go on. Is it just me or do you hear the laurel sing, too?«

Bored of the life in the City of Gold

He'd left and let nobody know.

Gone were the towers he had known from a child,

Alone with the dream of a life

He travelled the wide open road,

The blinkered arcade,

In search of another to share in his life.

Nowhere.

Everyone looked so strange to him.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And wept as they led him away to a cage

Beast that can talk, read the sign.

The creatures they pushed and they prodded his frame

And questioned his story again.

But soon they grew bored of their prey

Beast that can talk?

More like a freak or publicity stunt.

Oh

No.

They've got no horns and they've got no tail

They don't even know of our existence.

Am I wrong to believe in a City of Gold

That lies in the deep distance, he cried

And broke down the door of the cage and marched on out.

He grabbed a creature by the scruff of his neck, pointing out:

There, beyond the bounds of you weak imagination

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Today is Sunday, the 27th of August 2023.

Leaves are singing