Tuesday, April 7, 2009


It starts again, it does, the new season comes,
here sipping tea in a wicker chair,
in the lightening dark of early morning,
when she came, coy as ever, a little cold
but it's early still, and soon she’ll open up, she will.

The sky starts to lighten, and it’s getting warmer, it is,
as the conversation winds about on a twisted course,
and there come these little warm bursts of laughter,
and varying periods of a cool, uncomfortable silence,
but things are getting better, they are.

Let loose a little, just a bit, and get more colourful,
and she gets colourful too, colour on colour,
like some kaleidoscopic rainbow, and sometimes
the colours clash, and it get’s heated,
but that’s all right, it is.

Things are getting hot now, they are,
here at high noon and everything is becoming
just a little too much, so much
it's time to settle back in those wicker chairs, it is,
and sip cool drinks to ease away the heat.

Still talking, but not as brightly as before, no,
but shining a little, it's true,
in the reminiscence of shared colours,
that incredible heat,
of not too long ago.

It’s all so very beautiful, it is,
but it all gets to looking
a little bit tired,
the colours fading, not so bright,
no, not at all.

Less and less can the warmth be felt
as everything,
little by little,
gets a little more colder,
it does.

Sun setting, and the dark on the way,
it’s coming, and then it comes, and all is cold,
like a blanket that just wraps the world in silence,
and the realization, that it’s over, it is,
time to go home now, alone, cold, in the dark.

Ain’t so bad though, really, because
before you know it, there she is again,
in a wicker chair, and it’s that time, it is
as the skies begin to lighten,
the sun comes up, and it all starts again.

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