Fading

The reflection fades
In the bright glass before me.
I remember a time
When you could see nothing at all
Through its lonely shield.

Now streetlights, leaves
The wall, not so high now
Raindrops and the cars beneath them.
Shadows play across my face
Shrink from the image outside.

A cup of coffee, behind me,
Offers no love, or help for pain
As I stay alive

Man Looking For Jazz

There's a man looking for jazz
But I've lost my way
I miss your smile
Waiting for me in the past

Migraine, tired head
Just rice to eat
Stay plain to avoid an upset.
No coffee, no music,
Hibernating for the summer.

Now the man picks up
His bright red saxophone
Taps a rhythm with his foot,
And feels the sweet tones once more.

All I do is sleep to numb the pain.

And now I wake
To find a world forgetting
And daring me to give in.

With only, I think,
Your sweet hair
And tender limbs for help
Waiting for me in the past
Wonderful, then
That this is more than enough.

Morning Star

Morning star,
In the smooth violets
The smooth indigoes
Of the crying sky.

Hush now, tears of joy;
I scarcely imagined
That it could happen again.

Now bright yellows, oranges
A vivacious red
In the midst of all this beauty,
Morning star quietly disappears.

Now the memory
Of morning star
Is all that remains.
My rest has been swept away.

"Hush your tears, dear boy;
You really imagined
That I was gone?

"Now, your life has been swept away,
But evening star, unchanging
Will always return;
Is always longing to return."

Friday

This station where I'm
Waiting for the train
Is free of clutter.
Wide-eyed, lovely,
Lonely people
On benches, watch the sunset
And feel space all around.

Like that new song,
The smooth cadences
Which free and tame.
Alive, with not a thought
Of sleeping
At the end of the day,
When all is cleared aside.

You dry the tears from my eyes,
And still my breathing
In the gentle flesh of your shoulder.
Joie de vivre encore une fois,
And quiet, solemn discourse in the rain.

The Art Of Freedom

The word 'never'
Is unforgiving
So is that corner of my mind.

The word 'psychiatry'
Is unnerving
So you hold my hand.

And the art of freedom
You teach me
In your hushed tones
And the art of love
And cinnamon
And now 'never' being alone.

That corner of my mind
Calm, sleepy
Will acquiesce a while.

Bittersweet

The breeze blows across my skin
And makes me feel alive. I know
I never really woke up today,
Drifting in a sleepy haze of
Other people's cares.

There's you, oddly silent
On a day when I don't need you yet
But I'd like to hold your hand.
There's a small patch of blue
Shining other people's cares.

Just wait, for the cold unconsciousness
To sweep across me once again
The sun will still be there tomorrow
But I don't expect to see it rise.
You'll tell me about the colours in the morning.

A notion that could be mistaken
For freedom. In reality, I am
Deflated, wandering and cold.
It's bittersweet, when will struggles to survive
The breeze blows across my skin
And makes me feel alive

Audacity

Pastel sky
And gently beaming
Lights, so far beneath my feet
The blurred lights
Make this feel like a dream

Sit there, eat
Sing aloud
Lie there
Sigh there
Counting stars and counting clouds.

No more than a whisper
And cars outside going by too fast
A softer world for you and I
Audacity to dream that it might last.