Conjuring Magic Thoughts Poem by Andy Brookes

wishing I could write like a child, to speak truth and have no fear;
see throughinnocent eyes in a playground of the small things
but not small thoughts to limit imagination.

words get in the way, people get in the way, with their double meanings.
double standards, which double me up with body blows in double time.

sly asides push you aside, lost in others agendas, needs and wants. getting side stepped.
stepped on, hit with responsibility, burned by ice, adulthood's heavy the price.

longing for where once we haduniverses to play in, not these small boxed in spaces,
that fit awkwardly to hamper and shackle, dampening the spirit, bound to earth.
stuck among small thoughts, with small joys, the horizon does not seem limitless,
in this limited world ofmaking our daily bread. a slogging daily existence.

still doors do open like a flower, fragile and tenuous and I venture out in to the sunlight and freedom; trying to keep the window of imagination open yet even that has narrowed to a lancet light,
though a thin beam of purity making the heart skip, I delve deep into imagination's cupboard
looking for inspiration in a world gone cold, strait jacketed and evermore contracted.
yet there in the bottom of the box, I find, like Pandora, a jewel called hope.