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Lexington Poetry Month
His Narnia
17Jun2017
article by
Dennis Preston
Poem
4

Sometimes, when he’s riding
in the car with me, he lets me
into his world.  He opens
the wardrobe filled
with fur coats, and we walk
into the snow-covered dominion
where he is king, and I his servant.
What is your bidding, My Master?
A bite to eat, a trinket to add
to his hoarded assemblage.
Suddenly, we’re thrust back
to reality, a place not nearly
as delightful, but for a little while
his kingdom flourished.


4 responses to “His Narnia”

  1. Jennifer Curtis says:

    I love it when he lets us in.

  2. Jessica Swafford says:

    Nice. I like the phrases hoarded assemblage and his kingdom flourished

  3. Mary Owens says:

    Loved this poem. Power to the small ones!

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