Read the following poem by Australian poet, Zora Cross, slowly taking in each word and phrase, permitting yourself to enter that sacred space in your soul.

Late, late last night, when the whole world slept
Along to the garden of dreams I crept.
And I pulled the bell of an old, old house
Where the moon dipped down like a little white mouse.
I tapped the door and I tossed my head:
"Are you in, little girl? Are you in?" I said.
And while I waited and shook with cold
Through the door tripped Me - just eight years old.

I looked so sweet with my pigtails down,
Tied up with a ribbon of dusky brown,
With a dimpled chin full of childish charms,
And my old black dolly asleep in my arms
I sat Me down when I saw myself,
And I told little tales of a moonland elf.
I laughed and sang as I used to do
When the world was ruled by Little Boy Blue.

Then up I danced with a toss and a twirl
And said: "Now have you been a good, good girl?
Have you had much spanking since you were Me?
And does it feel fine to be twenty-three
I kissed Me then, and I said farewell,
For I've earned more spanks than I dared to tell,
And Eight must never see Twenty-three
As she peeps through the door of Memory.

Write after peeping through the door of Memory.

 

 

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