Time is a tricksy bastard, which gets its claws into us early, as UA Fanthorpe reminds us.
Half-past Two
Once upon a schooltime
He did Something Very Wrong
(I forget what it was).
And She said he’d done
Something Very Wrong, and must
Stay in the school-room till half-past two.
(Being cross, she’d forgotten
She hadn’t taught him Time.
He was too scared at being wicked to remind her.)
He knew a lot of time: he knew
Gettinguptime, timeyouwereofftime,
Timetogohomenowtime, TVtime,
Timeformykisstime (that was Grantime).
All the important times he knew,
But not half-past two.
He knew the clockface, the little eyes
And two long legs for walking,
But he couldn’t click its language,
So he waited, beyond onceupona,
Out of reach of all the timefors,
And knew he’d escaped for ever
Into the smell of old chrysanthemums on Her desk,
Into the silent noise his hangnail made,
Into the air outside the window, into ever.
And then, My goodness, she said,
Scuttling in, I forgot all about you.
Run along or you’ll be late.
So she slotted him back into schooltime,
And he got home in time for teatime,
Nexttime, notimeforthatnowtime,
But he never forgot how once by not knowing time,
He escaped into the clockless land for ever,
Where time hides tick-less waiting to be born.
U.A.Fanthorpe |
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