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Lexington Poetry Month
His Narnia
article by
Dennis Preston

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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