Tony Mitton

Poet & Children's Writer


Do you remember

the tale of the girl

locked up in the chamber

and told to spin gold

from straw?


I am like her.

My world is a vault

of solid stuff,

brutal and tough,

and I am locked up in it.


My wheel is my pen

and my work is to set it

to spin,

to grip with its small point

all it can pin



Was it a witch

or a king,

who spelled me here,

pitching me into

this pent place?


Why should I ask,

as clearly my task

is merely to write

and write and write,

across the desert

of day and night,


endlessly spinning

the dead, dry straw

into a glimmer

of something more,


plying my pen

to subtly fold

the lustreless straw

to a sheen of gold?


My story is over.

The tale is told.