Vignettes

I

It’s late at night, and I should be asleep,
But I’m thinking of you.
What else would you have me do?

I’m staring at the ceiling,
And looking around in the dark,
Listening to the ticking of the clock,
Slowly winding its way to a morning.

Tick-tick-tick-tick,
I’m not sure of the day of the week,
Or of a time past or present,
But only those that begin and end with you.
It’s chilly, but I’m not cold, “The spirit transcends
The body”, I was once told.

And now I can see myself hovering overhead,
As I fly above my roof and look around at the vacant
Night sky. Its strange to be alive when the whole world is numb,
It’s a feel, a thrill that is exhilarating, it rushes through your throat
And blossoms poppies in your stomach.

I’m reminded of your smile, the twirl of your head
And the sparkle in your eye
As you run away with flowers
That are like little secrets stolen.

I behold your gait in slanting sunshine,
How you tincture it with your prescence
Such that I never want sunlight again,
But only to remain in the musk of your shadow,
That falls on shallow brooks and verdant greens,
And the moss that leisurely stretches itself across the ground.



II

The boom of the aeroplane that soars above
While I sit mute in my cramped little room
And listen to that late night flight
Destination bound:that mass of noise and thunder,
As it rends the inky firmament, starry knit
And eclipses the moon, moving its shroud
Over naive rooftops and sombre tenements.

That dreary howl of that lonesome mutt
Is drowned to that drone, as is the ticking of my clock-
Of Chinese make:tick-tick-tick-tick,
Destination bound and of a maddening wound lick.