A Living Pokedex
It's just a
phase he's going through.
The Pokemon go to their graves
In some dark copse where Misty waves
Goodbye to Ash and Pikachu.
I know that place. It is the far
Back of the brain where heroes fall:
Steve Zodiac and Fireball,
Mike Mercury and Supercar,
Toys of my time, abandoned wrecks
Buried in years of unbelief,
My archaeology of grief.
Now I'm a living Pokedex,
Hitch-hiking on my son's delight
And finding meaning in a craze
That pumps some iron in the day's
Anaemic veins until it's night.
My child is playing in his den
With Bulbasaur and Gloom as friends.
Will he come through when childhood ends?
My case is something else again.
If you've any comments on this poem, K.M.Payne would be pleased to hear from you.