The Flighty Dreams of Neville

A few years ago now, or way back beyond,

In a body of water, like a stream or a pond,

In the cold, slimy, sludge lived a small little pebble,

Looking up at the sky: our brave hero Neville.

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Through his window of water he saw beautiful things,

A-flitting and flutting and dancing with wings.

‘How I wish I could join’ (if his voice could be heard)

‘And live in the sky, and glide like a bird’

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Mr Trout was his friend, a corpulent chap,

Who would rest in the mud and lay down for a nap,

One lazy June day, in his dreams he could hear,

The longing of Neville, as a mayfly drew near.

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With a wiggle in the mud, and a flick of his bum

He hoped he could launch his friend up to the sun.

But the devil he could, and the pebble just sank.

Right down to the mud, where it’s cold and it’s dank.

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Mrs Kingfisher tried, along with old Trout

To think ‘what’s to be done to get this stone out’?

But try as they might though, with each little scheme,

Our wee pebble, Neville, sank down in the stream.

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And so one Summer’s eve, when the fae-folk were out,

Poor Neville lay cold with a tear and a pout,

And wished, how he wished, for just one little chance,

To fly up with the fairies for a midsummer’s dance.

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But these spirits are kindly, and heard this poor bloke,

And gathered for council on the branch of an oak,

‘Let’s grant him this wish’ they smiled and agreed,

‘We help those who ask it when they are in need’.

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When the sun broke again, and Old Trout came to call

The pebble had changed, not like Neville at all!

Instead of the sadness, and woe and travails

He had beautiful wings, a-flapping like sails.

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They laughed and they giggled and Neville prepared,

To shoot out of the pond and soar in the air.

With a short prepared speech he climbed up on the haunch,

Mr Trout gave the countdown and then came the launch!

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From a small woodland brook on a fine summer’s day,

(A typical stream any person would say)

With a splash and a ripple, what a wonderful sight!

Neville ‘Daredevil’ Pebble had at last taken flight.

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He flew and he gambolled and soared higher for fun,

And smiled, as his wings dried and fanned in the sun.

The fae in the shadow applauded with glee,

As Neville danced, airborne, for all folk to see.

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His confidence growing, he put on a show,

Swooping and diving like a fully-fledged pro,

This wonderful pebble shot along like a streak,

And promptly was swallowed by a brick with a beak.

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So hear me, young pond stones, take heed of this chappy,

Who ended as brick-food 'cause he couldn’t be happy.

With good friends and purpose and a muddy wee home, why

Did Neville the Dreamer try to take to the sky?