Wish Fulfilment.

I must, as a child, have yearned for riches,

endured a most personal poverty,

to have dreamt such a dream so frequently.

Sitting alone upon the pavement's edge,

I idly probe the gutter with a stick,

only to unearth, vivified my gaze,

the silver dazzle of a shilling coin.

Confirming its substance in my fingers,

I quickly pocket my discovery,

nervous perhaps of some nearby comrades,

known all too keen to dash a weak boy's claim.

With thoughts of further finds, I labour on,

soon yet another like coin to exhume,

to be succeeded by yet more and more,

until it marvellously apparent

that there's not an inch of dirt that's barren,

my pockets soon ponderous with shillings,

my mind agog with the likely harvest

of mile upon mile of untouched gutters.

What depths of deprivation on waking!

My fabulous fortune turned to nothing!

See me rummaging pillows for stray coins.

Most cruel sleep so to delude a poor child!

You would, years on, play me still meaner pranks,

with some lovely images my blood beguile,

I waking to far greater impoverishment,

to far emptier beds.