Wednesday, 2 September 2009


It was a talking day. Full

of words. He ached for

a trip to a Musical because

he hadn’t asked for two hours

so now he did ask, played a game with dice,

looked at Youtube and did an ask again.

Bedtime, he laid down but, at five past one, sat

up and asked for ‘live on stage’,

flopping back down when no one came.

Later, in moon brightness, he had a pee and

noticed rain that wasn’t there before

and how it was a Tuesday.

Marmite-toast for breakfast, in between

talking about Mama Mia, theatre and asking after

Lloyd Weber. Then he asked for Showtime

with a grin – Phantom, Cats, Les Mis, Chitty,

Oliver – live on stage - Musical please!

Dad said OK but nothing new occurred

so he asked again – Oklahoma -

and, in the presence of mystery,

magic struck with a knock

on the door. A Postman

carrying tickets. A hit! Encore!

Now – he takes a breath. What’s next?