The Room of a Child

What is he? But a child, sitting in bed,

His crooked smile, emoting delight.

As he seeks to delay the nap, instead,

He receives one look of warning from a

Kindred Sprite. A raised eyebrow and eyes

That speak volumes to quench his hopes, he tries

To overcome these all too powerful

Popes, meets resistance, such a tower, full

Of patience rest assured, but not blurred.

He inside the tower looks but to stare,

To quell the insolent spirit, this bear

Of a child that is his charge. So now,

His lip trembles, he knows it's all up, how

Shall he change his tactics? his game is up!

So he looks down, just a little and sighs,

Starts to sniffle, to whine, and so he cries

Because of this tower that will not budge,

His whines, becomes impatience, makes such sludge

That did form from ice and mud hit with sun.

He looks up during his act, has he won?

Have his looks so sullen and upset done

Wonders upon the tower? Jericho

Might have tumbled from the racket, but no,

This tower, adult, is wise to his game,

Because in times past he'd have done the same.

So the tower sprouts arms, he reaches down,

Grasps the little soldier by the waist, frown

Now in place, picks him up. Tosses him high,

Up to the ceiling, that is to the sky.

And when he lands this child grins and knows,

That the issue is resolved, the case closed.

He look one last time from his into mine.

He is courageous and brazen, tall pine

That his is, this soldier child, is not

Afraid to take a chance, will risk it all

For a single glance from the tower tall.

And so for a moment, the soldier, grim

With uncertainty, awaits towers brim.

Or does he mistake what he knows to be

A mere game of patience, is it a whim?

Yet he is gratified, relief such bliss!

For the tower begins to do as he wished.

The slit that is in the tower within

Breaks wide into a smile must give in,

To the brave little soldier this small child.

The tower tosses him once more up high,

And tells him now that he must say goodbye,

But he'll come tomorrow to do battle,

If the soldier doesn't pine like cattle.

The tower lowers this kindred spirit,

Into his bed,says "don't let me hear it."

So he gives the tower one last look, and

Hopes that he'll read to him another book,

But the Tower has run out of patience,

Tells him to sleep, he has other patients

To see before the day is said and done.

Since the boy knows how the story goes, he

Lies back down to sleep, but as tower leaves

He gives up a cry, "please please! will you sing?

So the tower then stops, planted firmly,

His mind hidden within, "you bumblebee,

Must you tickle me with your trite requests?"

So the boy throws a fit, he's sick of it!

And doesn't want a nap after all. But

Then he hears, "All right, have no fears, tut tut!

No bar room brawls shall we have in this room."

Then he opens his gates, which emanates,

A strong and sonorous voice. And the boy,

He sits back, lies his head on the sack that

Holds his pillow inside. Listens to that song,

And he sings along, with the pretty brides.

These give the Keep sternness to keep such boys

Under control. Yet when the gate is down,

Such beauteous sound as now emanates,

Comes out in full force from the heart of course,

From the lady in the highest of keeps.

For out of all towers comes a song, full

Of powers, That gives the hearer faith, hope

To escape trolls underneath the landscape,

That is underneath his head, or his bed.

So the boy does lie down, his peaceful frown

Mingled with wonder and fear, the tower

Now closes the gate as he touches the

Small boy but to cheer his face with his warmth.

Now the boy smiles like infantile's

Who do know that heavenly love is near.

So the tower, done it's task, turns to go,

At the door of the world he looks back on

His charge, this small boy not yet grown or large.

The slit within opens wide in a grin,

As he contemplates him where he lays. So

Now he leaves, but a crack if you please, in

The doorway to the great unknown, heaven. 

The Room of A Child, (C) Luke Bennette