The Warning Voice

"Don't touch the red-hot pokers,"
Our kindly teacher said.
"They're sure to burn your fingers,
And you'll wish that you were dead."

We stood and gazed upon them,
Inquisitive and scared,
For red and sulphur-yellow
Those red-hot pokers flared.

Beyond the purple pansies
And marigolds aglow,
Untouchable for ever
They stood in fiery row.

It was in the playground-garden;
We were very, very young,
And every word was gospel
That fell from teacher's tongue.

We are older now, and wiser;
The warning voice is spurned.
Life's reddest red-hot pokers
We touch - and are not burned.

27.10.2000