The Story of Ferdinand

Exhausted red cover pulls my mind like a door
That leads to a path garnished with a cork tree.
The sweet, pollinated smell of flowers
Off dreaming under the cork tree.

Behind the cover under the cork tree
The same words spoken every night.
Mum’s smell matching that of the flowers
Ingrained into my head.

The light swish of the pages
Tugging my mind back to reality
Before the words began again,
Chasing my mind to a tangle of imagination.

The story of a bull unlike the rest,
Quiet and peaceful where he lay to rest.
As if it was me under the cork tree
Once the story was done.

And to this day
I still return to the cork tree,
Escaping the bull fights in Madrid
Just lying, smelling the flowers.