The Sum of My Experiences

I don’t remember a time

when my imagination didn’t have a yen for flight.

I was always the odd sprout in the cultivated flower bed.

I suppose it was easy to dismiss my fancies

as yet another song of a space cadet,

solitary and adrift in an imaginary orbit

because silence beckons more than playground noises do.

Many did.

But I never saw myself as afflicted

when in my mind I had adventures

as grand as any Miyazaki heroine.

Having myth in the blood isn’t a disease;

it’s an advantage.

As an adult I’ve thought about the past,

having reflections on negativity while walking my corgi.

and decided I’m happy for my daydream addled youth,

even if others saw me as peculiar, and still do.

My ukiyo-e colored internal landscape

would have been far poorer without it. 

Any ink child of mine

would be a stunted and malnourished thing

if not a steady diet of faerie song.

Home, by Magic Love Crow.

See more of Magic Love Crow's work on her blog and Etsy page of the same name

Song Choice: Daydream Believer by the Monkees

This poem was inspired by a prompt given by Imaginary Gardens with Real Toad: A Poem of Our Own (Create poetry with the titles of our previous poems. Hey Magaly, does 13 work for you?)