gas lamps
dance round our
drunken heads as we
stumble down the lane
fingers sore from playing
wet cobble stones steaming
in the monsoon heat. Gathering
sparks of new ideas that rub off
each other with a flick of a lighter
my playmate twin … what shall we
make today ? while others sleep we
let imagination riot. Together we can
speak and nobody can silence. Shell
of a locked basement creaks open to
reveal all the treasures a mind can
hole. And everyone is there waiting
their ribbons and lanyards and the
lines we have made for them. But
can't hear inside our bubble we
hear the music so sharply so
happy to hear it with you
in your mind hearing it
through you like an
amplifier rings a
No comments:
Post a Comment