dances under the light of the day.
Music is shadows that turn twist and
to be remembered or forgotten.
Are any of us remembered. Beyond the four walls
of our home.
To reach out. And drop to our knees in prayer.
And to say another prayer and another.
I listen to a banshee in pantomime from across the room
and suddenly he screams guess!
I smile and my smile fades. I whisper,
Are any of us remembered.
Dances under the light of the day.
Can I have another, please?
That one was so enjoyable.
I was a child once upon the coast of time.
My friend from across the room
asks me softly…
what is tomorrow like?
You have to sneak up on it.
Then what is yesterday.
Yesterday is a path and leads to
a finish and that finish is a weight.
Yesterday is a pond as a child
during the summer with a cousin.
And the name of the pond is tomorrow.
What is fear? Fear is a word I give myself
when depression answers and I have nothing to do. Funny, that.
When I have nothing to do
my mind turns towards ideas.
Ideas about things to do.And when time is a friend?
I have none. Wow. No really, really, wow.
Like, really wow.
When I was a child I remember putting away the piano.
I tell myself it was because I got lost in the confusion
of transposing. And why is that wrong?
There is no confusion. I remember the putting it away. Just
not the going back to it. The getting organized.
But I was there. You came to me.
I know.
