I first discovered Greek mythology
when I was 12, permitted on my own
to Saturday-ransack the library,
and cycle home with books to read alone.
Outside or in my room with fantasy,
I was content, inspired, charmed and well.
I’d moved from fairy tales and soon would be
beguiled romantically in Austen’s spell.

But when it came to choosing where I’d tread,
I didn’t wait with faith for perfect end.
I took the best on offer then, instead;
pragmatically I’d learned to comprehend.
If otherwise, like her I might have been:
unfruitful, sour, waiting to begin…