#85
Chamomile tea with some red lighting,
The guitar man, closed eyes, explores eternity,
A few clap, a four man band,
Drums, sax, guitar, and keys,
Like rain drops falling
Building a running stream
Water-falling down
The glittering rocks,
Meandering, we’re not going,
A song for floating,
For remembering,
For unfocused dreaming,
It ends. One song left. Only here for three of them,
Called ‘Don’t be so sure’.
That intensifying dissonance,
Twinkling aftermath,
A man talking to himself,
An alien abduction,
The setting of the sun,
Just keys,
The granite orange,
The purple orchid,
The pink linen,
The half circles across the ocean.
There’s five of us on the beach, a fire next to us, not needed for its heat. The rising moon, not crescent, but pregnant with love, with guidance, with hands that softly touch lighting the water, shining diamonds across the sea, the fish light up, the bioluminescent bay. Another concluding day wrapped so nicely, one of those magical days where tomorrow is not a problem and yesterday far. The five of us, the chorus of the gods, their last song.
The crowd slowly stretches and yawns,
The spell broken,
Bundling, jackets on,
The chatter builds,
Clanging of dishes,
Hectic explorative jazz over the speakers,
Step, step, step, spin, the 1920’s alive through the static,
Flapper girls and the such,
A spell for three songs,
Now broken,
Like coming too,
For a brief moment I wasn’t in control,
Now, time to finish my tea and head home.
A cigarette rolled,
Brace for the cold.
Thank you for reading! Appreciate your time. Stay tuned for more poems, music, and a road trip in the future. Love any comments, and thanks again!