Bard to the bone
Arrgh! Make the bad poetry stop!
…
Arise, awake! The moon has stripped
her steely robes to be dethroned
by the bright might of sun. Through
fogged windows, a sliver of day slipped
in to christen his sleeping head. Others bemoaned
the morning but he packs his bag, finds his shoe,
Locks the front door, makes his usual way
into the weariness of the world. Despite
the weariness of the world. People wait
for him and his attentions plus/minus delay,
some with song in their eyes, some with light
in their footsteps; others with weight
in their hearts, and ailments many more
to mention. At times it is relentless, at times
there is breeze and quietness but these
moments drift like dandelion seeds – poor
to the catch. As the last bell chimes, his ears
echo, knowing that the chimes do not cease
Until time itself suspends. He returns back to
the resting place with heavy bones and tired arms.
Can it be bedtime already? Where has the hour
gone, where have the moments run off track,
Why has sun retreated to sunken position? Alarms
Are set for what is to follow, the dour
Smell of impending future returns to the air.
Perhaps with eyes closed the night will
follow suit. As the clocks go tick,
The fridge hums, the floor tiles bare
their coldness, the wind draws to a still.
And he falls asleep…dreaming of music.
