Build me up, knock me down
The grass is green, my paddock is brown
And I watch my dream’s intrepid journey
Turn into a vagabond without an attorney
My book of magical words is mortified
Locked away, untried and unidentified
Now a piece of petrified wood on the mountainside
Is there a release button for the certified
I shall escape to the chromatic lakeside
And reclassify my reflection as unqualified
Ivor Steven (c) April 2021






