Kingillie was a miniature empire. <br />It had a mountain with hollows that <br />I knew precisely. It had lawns that <br />were fields, each shape - rectangles, <br />others cut like to make a waistcoat - <br />as clear to me now as they were then. <br />Then, I fitted under beds that swallowed <br />me into a heaven with dust that dropped <br />down from the canvas above. <br />The blue lino of the playroom was a <br />giant rally circuit; the join in the middle <br />of the floor a vital obstacle. <br />The book cupboard's rich stink smothered <br />me in comfort, but its contents hinted <br />at possibilities. <br /> <br />(Edinburgh,13/8/12)<br /><br />Hugh Fraser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kingillie-was-a-miniature-empire/
