30 Poems: Day Twenty-three


Music is vital to me. It often speaks to me when nothing, and no one, else can. The photo above is of the incomparable Erroll Garner, whose album “Concert by the Sea” is one of my “desert island discs”.

This is a simple little piece, reflecting how I feel about love and music.


Is it too much to want him to go to my head?

For him to be too very very to ever be in

Webster’s dictionary?

Does it really have to be delovely?

Should it head towards being nestled where

the roses bloom?

Nice work if you can get it.

I could tell you some stories

but they’re not in a gentleman’s code.

I shall leave the light on the stair

to turn this house into a home.

I confess to being tired of

living in a kind of day-dream;

watching the autumn leaves drift

by my window.

Perhaps it’s time to accept that no one

will fly me to the moon.

Or send shivers up and down my spine.

Or make me feel so young.

Time to simply ask:

“Where’s that confounded bridge?”


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