Debussy hour

As the first strains of the piano
Arpeggios arch through the gloom
Of the blinds-pulled living room
You curl in my arms
Nuzzle for a breast
As if you were not outgrowing
Your babyhood
So keen to stretch skyward
When will I be a Big Girl, Mummy?
Soon enough, my lovely,
Soon enough.
This hour is my solace.
Your warm breath on my shoulder
Legs folded around my thigh
We embrace upon the sofa.
I ignore the floor
What little of it remains visible
In the chaos of your wake
Toys strewn like flotsam.
I am drowning by inches
Yet this is not playtime
I will not despair
For my once neat home
It matters little
And shall be overcome
Once we are both back on our feet.
Eyelids flutter as we reach for
The second movement
Ears adjusting to familiar rhythms
I reach for the mouse
Scroll to the next page
Of our story
Welcoming this forced pause
Suspended in our time
Inhabiting this shared space
To the end of the lullaby

The watermelon that wanted to be wine

After a day of dreaming
Exotic visions
Of cool, popular appeal
Thoughts fomenting
In the summer heat
Grew so excited
Reaching for the stars
Through the kitchen window
Tore convention asunder
Sides split
Spilling ambition in
Sticky streaks across the counter
Down the cabinets
And pooling resources
In a puddle on the tiles
Now what?
Momentarily floored
Smiling with
Sugary, toothless
Carefree abandon
It fizzed at the moon
While a pale face
Shone through the night
Reflected in a
Domestic waterfall
Of over-ripe
Sweetness

Daydreamer

Not for me
Such Heathcliff tales
No bodice-ripper
Do I crave

I’ll not succumb
To doe-eyed slave
I thirst for more
Than hero-brave

An aspiration
Of romance
In modern times
Has not much chance

Of blossoming
To fruitful lust
Amid this dance
Of little trust

We feel our way
From bed to desk
And sleep en route
Deprived of rest

So few our moments
And well-spaced
No thunderbolt
Mid rat-filled race

But gaze at fellows
As we pass
Their eyes as cold
And hard as glass

Where nothing tender
Is betrayed
We human souls
Are yet afraid

The loneliness
That seeps through cracks
Means even couples
Can’t relax

For mated, settled
Set-up well
We miss what first attracts;
The smell

And nostrils flaring
Leave the nest
Searching for
More fun, less rest

What is exotic
Fuels our dreams
Thus life unravels
At the seams

The Batchelor

A blue-eyed boy
Of brooding stare
Sells daydreams of
Devil-may-care

He need not speak
It’s in his air
All others pale
To see him there

An unfamiliar
Tempting treat
His louche appeal
Seems twice as sweet

Than does our more
Suburban fare
‘Tis solid, stodgy
We compare

This fantasy
To what’s at home
And straightway chart
Our course to roam

Thus leaving scruples
Far behind
Beg an adventure
Of the mind

Tarnished Valentine

No good may come of dreaming
I look upon the world
No castled knights, no diamonds ring
But real, cruel and cold

The truer side of romance
Of creamy curds and whey
Beyond the reach of second chance
Who’d only heard today

No gift is given freely
Without a reckoning
Among the clouds of mystery
To you, my love, I sing

The land of green ginger

Magic was once my favourite word
That long ago time, when dreams flew about.
I loved every tune my ear ever heard
And voices sang all around, inside and out.

With only a breath of a wish I could climb
To peak on each mountain and slide down the frost
I needed no answers, no reason to rhyme
But I’m starting to fear that this time I have lost.

The lonely existence I now seek to fill
With fragments of stories, my paperback friends,
Seems further away from what little I still
Remember from those tangled, twisted loose ends.

I wonder and wander around and about
And puzzle at what things have stolen away
The dreams and ideas that did glitter and shout
Throughout every night and during every day.