A Fiction

This evening I silently drift
In the pleasant fiction of peace

Here upon the very field
On which no end of battles
Have been waged
In the war of my heart

In the colourful company
Of snapping dragons
Of little sleeping apples
And a hundred winking Williams

And these perfect, circling
Outbursts of outrageous colour
Of which I do not know the name
But love.

They're shooting for the sky
So joyous. Dauntless.
Each one a tranquil firework
Pleasing no-one but themselves

And me. Drinking in the sky
And a blackbird's merry melody
Like iced tea and lemons
I might imagine I'm anywhere

Swimming somewhere cool
After a hard day's work