Outside my window
As I rest my pen
Allow an inflamed heart to cool
The wind nudges shadows
From the trees
And causes them to lap on to the
Freshly mown lawn
A few blossoms – red- yellow flare up
Against the walls of the garden
Nature is an interlude
It interrupts the squabbling mind
Of people..
We see and feel it everyday
We see it conspiring with black armies
Of cloud
Thundering overhead
It murders the sunlight and puts
A cold spike in our feeble hearts
4.00am
Watching the tiny inferno
In the gas fire
It feeds a long silence in me
Next to me her breath
Rose and fell
The mortal tide within her
Piped beside me
Her eyes locked with sleep
I hug my knees and try to calculate.
All that has been written
Although my feet are tucked under
Her thigh
I feel alone
The hiss of the fire and orange glow
Has me hypnotised
The importance of language
Breaks down
I could not have spoken
Felt only the coming tears
But still deep inside me
Words and ideas stir
From this shadowy early hour
Slowly but perceptibly
The genesis of expression
Has begun as light tiptoes
Into the room through
The far windows.
.
Malcolm. Paul
Picture Nick Victor
.