I sit before the keyboard
and ponder long-gone youth,
When clouds were shaped like Oliphaunts
or even Wargs forsooth.
With innocence we’d whirl ‘til tipsy
and dance our Springle-ring,
Or jostle and joust atop Erebor
to be the Mountain’s King.
Upon our Egladil we’d rest
and heed the songbird’s trill:
Here Angle’s End waved meadow-grass
and pale-green Niphredil.
Then: “Tag! You’re it!” was a delight,
but moreso Hide-n-Seek:
We’d duck behind a Mallorn Tree
or crouch in Cavern Deep.
As I sit before the keyboard
I relive my Bagshot Row:
We’d climb up Old Man Willow
and watch the Big Folk down below.
From the branches of our Ent-house
we held Councils of the Wise,
While the Master of the Hall held forth
Great Music we’d devise.
Alone we’d play ‘til dusk each day,
our Gammers had no Dragon-fear:
Then Varda’s Lights would shimmer bright
while Eärendil above shone clear.
At twilight blossomed fireflies,
they’d flitter to-and-fro;
Bewitched with Crystal Phial-full
we’d watch the Elven-glow.
We thought those Free Fair days would last,
foresaw no Gift of Men.
Yet fate on life’s Great Journey
takes trails we cannot ken:
And our Wandering Days of growth
bring new friends of great worth,
As those Hidden Paths have brought us
Fellowship in Middle-earth.
~~ * ~~