Scratchy McGrowl spent his nights on the prowl
stalking the yards without care.

While Ava VanPowell plotted murder most foul
for her books, at her desk by the stair.

So Scratchy would fight and Ava would write
til the sky would near break with the dawn.

Ava opened the sash and in Scratchy would dash
and they'd both greet the day with a yawn.

They would put on their slippers and breakfast on kippers
and chat about scraps, plots and muddles.

Then ‘neath duvets they’d lay, tucking in for the day
and drift  off to sleep in a cuddle.


© Mo O'Hara 2015

Miss Mistry was our teacher and she told us all we knew
of moons and oceans far away, and every word was true.
She told of flying dragons, wild beasts of earth and air,
celestial snouts a-smouldering, sparks leaping everywhere!

And we forgot the concrete walls, the heavy painted doors,
no longer saw the classroom with its scuffed unpolished floors.
We unrolled ancient maps, scrolls of the stars and seas,
charted astral cities where wild dragons surf the breeze.

Miss Mistry had a secret. I'm the only one who saw
that time she shed green dragon scales along the corridor.
She stared out of the window, and up into the sky,
a longing look upon her face. Flames flickered in her eye.

I watched and waited every week for just a tiny trace
of green reptilian cunning to appear upon her face.
I thought she might just scratch her head with sharply curving claw,
or throw Year Six's hamsters in her long and toothy jaw ...

And then one day it happened - I caught her breathing fire!
I watched her spread her golden wings - higher, higher, higher!
Miss Mistry had a secret. I'm the only one who knew -
she wasn't just a teacher - she was a dragon too!

She ran out of the door and with a roar, leapt for the sky -
Miss Mistry's never coming back. I know. I saw her fly.

© Lesley Moss 2015