Day Twenty-Six - #WoPoWriMo - Keep The Cork

   
They drag me
kicking and screaming
down country lanes,
beside rivers,
to their pumpkin patch.
They lie down on blankets
and drill my head
whilst striking their matches
and lighting their candles
and calling one another to bed,
their hands around my neck.
   
I squeak and squeal with
the pleasure of breathing,
the pain of release,
as they soothe the pressure of my cage
and draw me forth, an ancient cleric,
de-robed and resurrected,
to celebrate their passion.
  
And they fashion new roles, new purposes
for me, where before I would have rested.
Now I am invested in kitchen displays,
or stashed away
in a memory box, to be taken out some day
and gazed upon
by passive children.