We are the scent of sunshine,drifting, soaring like butterflieso’er fields not yet mownto land upon an apple limboutstretched and hangingverdant with the nectar pommeneath cotton wool and cyan skythat stretches far beyondthe waking call of baby’s cry. We are the breath of moonlightyellow streaks on placid pondsor winking through charcoal
Colours of Joy
The song is blueocean wavescrashingagainst a topaz shore‘neath starsexplodingviolet – magenta – greenand rosebudsfluttertiny crimson heartstwistingin the breezebeneath his fingers and then… it ends. inky curtainsshut against the nightand tiny stars disappearin puffs of yellow dust. ml’23 (Listening to David Gilmour ‘Comfortably Numb – Live at Pompei’)
A Day of Lumps
White wispsstruggle ‘neath navy capsas we honourthose who wear themin the wind and colda sea of poppiesat the eleventh hourstrewn on the tombof a young manwho never bouncedgrandchildrenon his knee. Today is pridememoriestraditionsand lumpsin my throat. ml’23
Relativity
I read a letter online yesterday, from Albert Einstein to his daughter. The letter talked about his Theory of Relativity and was intended to only be made public years after his death, when the political climate of the world had improved from the Cold War he had lived in. It
Wooden Ships
Wooden shipsbatteredbrokenon the beachin a blood red tideebbing the souls of childrento seato join the ageless sirensdriftingin the gardens of kelpmere yardsbeneath the marble stepsof a 5 star hotelredolentwith the smellof a thousand touristsbroilingin the sun. ml’23
No Liszt on My Top Ten List
It’s funny how your music tastes change over time, experiences, relationships and time tuning your smiles and tears into a plastic schema of what is good – and not good music! I am possibly a bit more obsessed with music than most, washing dishes to Classic FM on Globalplayer (Marguerita
