Beyond the Land of Counterpane

Gentle sounds of rainy days, Cool dampness on a counterpane The memory of my childhood years, beneath a quilt of poetry Stirs longing for that healing grace, that comes again upon the page... A mother's touch with vapor-rub Some toasted bread, a tender face A playground out beyond the dew.. The dampened swing, my misty view.. A shadow was my childhood friend, and sick-bed days a game Imagination flew so high, my carpet ride to magic lands My tattered book of childhood poems, still takes me by the hand ................................................. My first introduction to poetry...Robert Louis Stevenson's Childhood Garden of Verses (A sick-bed keepsake that kept me company)