Poetry Monday :: Island

Over five years ago I wrote this poem for the topic Portal. It is also suitable for Island, which is today's topic. Also Island is the Danish spelling of Iceland, which  plays a prominent part in my Unicorn Farm writings.

I do not know why, but gulls have been flying around in the poetic compartment of my brain, jogged by a photo I snapped and the sight of an old fence on my way to Copenhagen ... strange things happen.

If something come off it, I'll post here later on.

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Every Monday is Poetry Monday. Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over the hosting duties, mostly the supplying of the prompts - only temporarily we hope - while Diane at On the Border is taking a break for health reasons - and for travelling.

  I have something to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others via the links, would you please leave a comment.
  Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

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The portal - my portal - led to Unicorn Isle
Oh I'd love to go through it and stay for a while.
To meet Heidi and Knud, even Percy again
To run through those fields in the bright morning sun.
To wield my old wand, and to do magical spells.
But I'm old now and grey, and so are they all,
The teachers are greyer, if they are not dead.
I just can't return now. So I hang my head.

The wands are all broken, the magic is lost.
In Midsummer's heat I feel touched by the frost.
My portal is shattered, and where once it lay
Stands a kindergarten where small children play.
The walnut is chopped down, the meadow is gone,
The people who live there have fenced in their lawn.
Though my mind tells me no, as long as I live
In my unruly heart shards of hope will thrive.