Each day at roughly half past one,
My balcony’s awash with sun,
Tear off my shirt, a race I’ve won,
As in to her warm rays I run.
The cat I wish to be, I am,
A golden haze, raised gaze to tan,
My face, a smile, for once I can
Enjoy the outside without worry,
Clouds are soft, spaced as they flurry;
Leaving flecks of her behind
On freckled skies in a dreamer’s mind.
Within my hands a page of truth
A span before me, still in youth,
Despite what brands demand I see,
Deep wrinkles, not yet twenty-three.
But none of that can matter now
The light of day prevails somehow,
The world is bigger than this pen,
This laptop’s world that does not end,
Can not inspire me or pretend
To in the slightest bit compare
To the sky, her mighty blue;
What feelings stir in April air.
Never mind the April showers,
Paint my balcony in flowers,
Sit in sun beams for 5 hours,
Know exactly when she’ll hide,
For as soon as evening comes,
The sun is brighter now inside,
And so as any cat will do,
I choose to sit right there instead.
Lie and sprawl and stretch
Until the sun’s deep warmth falls on my head,
Close my eyes and those two lids
Are coloured in the brightest gold,
Flitting shadows Arche-types like primal figures, tales of old,
Dance against the yellow background letting nothingness unfold.
Tilt your head the burning red is fading now becoming black,
Kaleidoscopic, acid trip mandalas flit; flip on my back.
Let all the conjured images you thought you could see disappear
Replace them now with deeper meanings,
Whispered to your brain’s third ear.
Lie in the dark in silence, listen to your soul.
Only then can we find what’s important;
What we can and can’t control