If a child had invented light
 then light would slurp at shadows,
 gobble up night and dither
 here and there
 and
 everywhere
 uncovering spiders, daydreams
 and Saturdays
 ray by glorious ray.

 If a child had invented light
 then light could be chased
 tumbling down hills
 and hiding in trees and caves
 until caught 
 when
 with a squeeze and a splutter
 it would burst
 spilling rainbows everywhere.

 If a child had invented light
 then light would blink open curtains
 and dash out of bed
 shaking clean clouds
 from blue skies and
 bolting through the house
 leaving fingerprints on windows
 and smiles
 on faces.

 But if a child had invented light
would light let the dark
huddle and cuddle us
in bedtime stories and campfire songs
 or hold our hands as we creep
 downstairs on Christmas morning?
 So maybe light works just fine—
after all, children invented grown-ups
 and look they have done to the world. 

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