A Lovely Little Day Dream
The cinnamon scented days
in your grandiose porcelain cups,
as you would like to say,
in grass green warmth of May
of the sandal wood shadow
in your valley
made of three warm words from starry dark,
alongside the moon-circles
It is lovely
A rose dance
In a tipsy trance
A blue Greece peace
descending downward
Shivering moon ice
And Amazon warmth
From mouth to mouth
“Go slow go slow “
Calls the lark
from moon-snow
“Go slow”
Why the distraction?
In the lovely job of translation
from fire to ice
Slice by slice
Dropping all disguise
Into a stupendously charming reality
Of collapsing charm
Then, all on a sudden
Why the reaction
Of sudden interruption?
The lark asks
“Look above
Visit the cascade first
The temples, the galloping horses
The beautiful bird-neck
And the awesome hills”
The cream coloured shaft of sky
beteen the two tension to the hilt
Maddeningly failing
Into freedom of the flood
Tumultuous silence ...
And he felt the soft palm on his forehead
He came to
It was the nurse
By his hospital bed
‘Yes ?'
‘Sir, you have to ....'
'The chemotherapy?'
'Yes Sir'
A gentle smile on her face
A sandal wood shade
Of a different kind though
And ice slabs
In almost absolute temperature
_________________________________________________________
20/01/2017
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