Fair Trade

Sometimes when I hold this faded old Globe.
That I used as a child to show where the oceans where and the five continents.
The lines of Latitude and Longitude The North pole , the South pole and the Equator.
Sometimes when I hold this wrecked blue cardboard pumpkin,
I think here in my hands rest the fair fields of my childhood, where still lie or still wander old games, tops and pets.

A house where I was little and as old as I was tall. Afraid to swear because Grandma might hear and send a bear to eat me up;
Where I loved the pink clenches, the white and pink fists of roses:
Where I watched the rain that the sky's clouds threw down, in irregular mirrors of soft brown glass upon the ground.

Sometimes I think this old school globe is a parcel of my past, a basket full of half forgotten things. And now here I stand with it, somewhen in the summertime.
All alone in an empty school room where about me hang, Old Maps an Abacus, Pictures, Blackboards and stand empty Desks.

If I raise my hand, no teacher shall demand what I want,
but if someone in authority were here I'd Scream.
GIVE ME THIS OLD WORLD BACK whose shattered husk I clasp.
And I'll give you in fair exchange, the real true bitter sad one.
Thats filled not with a child's remembered and pleasant skies
But rather with Death, Blood, Puss, Horror,,,,, Mothers , Fathers and Lies.