7th May 2009

I hear funny familiar music in my head;
cars zoom by and the chatter of voices.
Someone sits on a porch as if they are lost.
The sun casts me shadow on my left, as heat warms my legs.

I walk inside the hall,
not greeted in ever the fairest way.
I stand in the kitchen and hear the clomp of high heeled black boots that aren’t my own,
the footsteps frequent.

Sipping drink.
Often I have wondered about the effects of caffeine,
laughed at the sugar that got me high.
But say – I’m rather exhausted and tired.

I feel like being home right now,
rather than having to wait.
Then I remember the clouds in my bag – not a regular fluffy white
but a chewy and sugar coated red.

The little things make me smile;
the smallest pieces of love hold me together;
and even the random acts of kindness keep me going.
“Complaints of violins become my only friend.”
If this isn’t love -
     then I’ll have to find a song for me and you.