I keep in my pocket,

A static spark from a magician’s wand,
Lava from an undiscovered volcano,
The tip of my finger holding a tear drop.

I will put in my pocket,

The first cry of a mother’s child,
The first star above the sky,
And a snowball fight with my brother.

I will put in my pocket,

Three dark secrets spoken in Arabic,
The last hysterical laugh of a grandad,
The last film of a famous producer.

I will put in my pocket,

A sixth sense and a black hole,
A boat slowly about to sink,
And a young ogre on a hobby horse.

My pocket is fashioned from emerald’s
Stolen by an evil wizard many moons ago,
With stars in the sea and the moon in the corner,
The seams have been threaded by a fairy.

I shall hide in my pocket in a great hide and seek adventure
Then play in the long luscious grass for hours,
The colours of the sun are orange and yellow,
But it is hot like fire.