Song of a Modern Prospero


Tell me, my only child,

With your studious looks

And room full of books,

Joyfully jumping in puddles

In colourful wellington boots;

Removing thorns

From stray cats’ paws,

Never scratched

By their sharp claws;

Riding on elephants

And charming doves;

Caught in the spiral

Of your father’s genes,

Rose without thorns,

Play without scenes:

What is it you plan

To do with your one

Wild and precious life?


© Kim M. Russell, 2016