Whims and Fancies Of An Ethereal Childhood

I don't really write poems, not my domain. However, the NaPoWriMo prompt of today (Day 4) reminded me the one dream-imagery that dominated most of my childhood. The moment I read it I was thrown back to cherishing that slaphappy memory, so I wrote something about it anyway, whether you'd classify it as a poem or not.

The prompt: to write a poem based on an image from a dream.

Drops of heavy rain fall hard,

there is a knock on the door,

the middle of night.

Heart pounds fast, 

the thought of it

numbing, in excitement.

Eleventh birthday, they said, 

and the unending wait had 

come to cease.

The knock, again.

Heart pounds faster,

the wind whistles the tune of hope,

the hoot of an owl builds up

the nearing time.

Not one more civilized knock,

but a knocked down door.

A wet, giant Hagrid stands 

clueless, eyes darting in search

of the little girl.

'Congrats, kid. Happy birthday!'

he booms.

'Sandhya- yer a wizard.'

There is silence.

Only the whistling wind,

could be heard.

Anyone who knew me around my middle school times can vouch for a fact that I went around saying I'd deny the most prestigious institution any day only to get acceptance from Hogwarts. It was my happy place, and many thanks to J. K. Rowling for that beautiful story that made us all yearn to get in. I was so carried away by the story that I actually believed that on my eleventh birthday I would actually get into Hogwarts. I even did the base of lecturing my mom as an attempt to convince her into sending me to Hogwarts. Ah, that was an acceptable disappointment. And, thanks to my wonderful friends, the long dream was finally fulfilled on my 19th birthday! Thanks to all of you who let me have my whims and fancies of an ethereal childhood with Harry Potter and the world of books!