Tell me that story again, the one I heard upon your knee

where fairies scattered fairy dust in little girls’ dreams

tell me about the boy again, the one with a heart of gold

or of the magical forest where the trees led to other worlds

 

I need the healing touch of your stories now, my ones have paled

I want to laugh with you as you repeat the old tales of yesterday

I need to see you smile, listen to your laughter echo in  my ears

only then, I feel, this heart will heal, my worries disappear.

 

My tales are boring and rotten, full of blood and gore

the world feeds on each other, this old heart can take no more

So sit me upon your knee, tell me those stories again

and I will be soothed and ready: to fight another day.