Sunday, 1 July 2012

The Concert

I love you.
Inarticulately I scream it,
to an audience of silent wooden
painted haphazardly to stretch from floor to ceiling.

There was no rehearsal. My eyes follow into the expanse
lifting my voice to the limitless skies.
Notes fall from my lips in keys of minor and major mishaps.

The heavens answer,
applause that bears down on me
 in a laboured rain that mingles
with tears.

I am green like the envious oak who waited for spring
They blend with vines of ivy twisted into knots of your
 but I cannot wait for winter’s pruning
to be undone.

I must be bothered to try
to learn melodies that make memories of you and I
just flashes of  song, words I
almost remember
or at least,
words that I remember to forget. 

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