You and I

We built our castle, you and I,
With vast ceilings
And colourful frescos up high,
Undercover,
With thick bricks of feathery downs,
Where warm breaths are radiators
That engulf us,
And you whisper in my ear,
"I love you the best".

We built our hideaway you and I,
Out of fleecy quilts wrapped over wooden boxes
With chairs for doors
And clothes maidens for supporting walls
A den for watching the world go by.

We built nests for nestling
And tents for testing
With stacks of books and a torch
For casting shadows of Giganotosaurs
And jaws
Projected onto the cupboard doors,
"Stop, stop!" you shout. 
And we do.

We waged wars, you and I
Against witches and shadows
And Makawak dragons,
Against forkfuls of peas and carrot thieves and suspicious looking sauces.
"I don't really love that" you say,
As if I even stand a chance.

We built our ship you and I,
Upon the sea bed
"Pirates of the hoy!" You shriek
As the cannons boom.
And climb the rigging high,
To spy a stowaway sister
On the starboard bow,
Cheerfully dismantling the hull.
"This means war", you cry.
And mean it.

Oh yes, we built worlds upon worlds, upon worlds,
Out of colour and shape and smell and sound and taste...
Co-conspirators in epic tales
Invisible to all. But you. And I.
Make believe.
Play pretend,
We can fan the flame so it does not end.

So when you grow and these bedroom forts cannot hold your long limbs anymore,
And the world bangs relentlessly upon your door,
When I am old and foolish and useless,
And a mummy cuddle can no longer cure all.

I hope you will remember.