Little specks of grey and light dance across my eyes,
Like shards of dark and bright across a window pane,
On a lazy Sunday morning.
Sitting with a cup of coffee, looking out of the window,
Waiting for the rain to come.
The earth is dry and parched and calling.
The coffee grows cold in anticipation of something…
I tickle the ivories, rather, tinker on them.
Fingers falter, remembering old tunes.
The finger of the right move only when the left don’t.
What are they scared of, I wonder?
A mis-step? A lost sound? A piece of myself thrown away?
Sound of Music soothes me, always has, since I was 6 years old.
I can sing along to every song, I know every beat, every rhythm and rhyme.
“I have confidence in sunshine”…
“And somewhere in my childhood, I must have done something good”.
I find it harder now to believe, however.
Cynicism is a dangerous thing, makes you think dangerous thoughts.
Bright lights, splashes of colour, white oblivion.
Quiet thoughts, big dreams, my very own Bucket List.
Sitting in the Acropolis awash in moonlight,
Hearing music that comes from the stones, centuries old.
Diving in the cool Pacific waters, exploring hidden treasures,
While waves wash over me, and Nemo shows me the way forward.
Watching people read my book and love it, I need no other accolade.
The urge is strong, the soul is fast, but alas, the mind is weak.
Sitting peacefully with my dog gambolling around me,
All love, and eager eyes for long walks, and drool-ey licks.
Right now all I want, really, is a room somewhere,
Far away from mostly everybody.