Like a clock whose hands
Are sweeping past the minutes of its face...
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space.
Like the circle you find
In the windmill of My Mind.
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of its own,
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone.
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgetten dream,
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a Stream !
Like a circle in a spiral,
Like wheel within a wheel,
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel,
As the images unwind,
In The WINDMILLS of MY MIND !
At nineteen , when you wake again,
The magic land you seek in vain;
A chair stands where the castle frowned,
THE carpet hides the garden ground,
No fairies trip across the floor,
Boots..and not horsemen, flank the door,
And where the blue streams rippling ran...
Is now a bath and " Water-can..."
You seek the Magic land in vain...
At nineteen...when you wake...again !
~~~ WHERE is WONDERLAND ! ~~~