Of Heffalumps and Hollow Trees

‘Twas past her bedtime

So I put her to bed.

Read me a story she said.

Knowing not more than me when I was ten

The honey bear and Blyton were called upon again.

If sleep was a friend

Some shame must have passed

For he had found his abode someplace far.

She cocked her head, with a look of disbelief,

“It’s a plain ol’ elephant and tree!”

With an arrow that pierced the depth of my soul,

I tried to explain; and myself console,

The heffalump in its fantastical form

And the house inside a tree trunk.

As I battled to keep my childhood alive,

Her army surrendered,

To my friend who had blundered.

I rescued my past, but left it’s soul on the battlefield

Hoping that one day she would follow it’s lead.