Walking through history
I find I have been thrown into a fairy tale
I walk the cobbled streets of old London
Gas lights barely illuminate the dark alleys
Where Oliver learned to pickpocket
I sit beside H G in his time machine
Travelling through lands
I have no words to describe
We cross paths with Gulliver
where we meet strange creatures
Here, a horse may whisper in your ear
You may ride along the great Mississippi
Converse with a young adventurer
called Tom Sawyer
The sights, sounds and smells of yesteryear
Linger long after the stories fade…
© anita dawes 2021
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