Wait for me. In that little copse of trees
We found that day, while running away
From all the things I miss today.
The window in the highest tower
Where I stood for nearly over an hour
Trying to find my wings.
Slippery little things.
The clouds were different in that sky.
Whiter than white, higher than high.
And filled with shapes only we knew to make
That swirled at the edges, and pushed at the breaks
And fell apart, laughing, at the lightest mistakes.
Yesterday’s papers are still at my door.
Remnants of night-time strewn across my floor.
Stacked up bills and two-coloured pills
Swept under the table, just gathering for more.
My days are built of dull-coloured things.
And yearnings are rustles of imaginary wings.
Pick up the umbrella, and leave it back in.
All the same to me.
The rain’s coming in.
That summer was pouring on the red fields
And the elephant lords on their mighty steeds
The wind in runnels amongst our feet
Rushes and rushes of thundery sweat.
Before we forget.
I thought it was death
I was leaving behind.
Wait for me. In that little copse of trees
I stumbled through - and when I came to,
I looked back for you.
I need to buy shoes. They wear. They fray.
Spilling at the edges - blank grey pages
Whoever knew that empty could take up so much space.
I wish it was a race.
Like heavy wings in space.
There used to be a shelf I just couldn’t reach.
On my tiptoes. On a chair. Even while you were there.
A shelf full of windows with magical airs.
A salty breeze from a seaside town.
Or the sharp-smoke scent of a burnt-down ground.
And the one I loved best - stood apart from the rest.
The smell of rain.
Bright streaks of wonder that fell from up high.
Impossible to imagine under a sky that never cried.
And impossible to forget. A promise quietly kept.
By a boy who could run between worlds if he tried.
Wait for me. In that little copse of trees
That was once two, till I looked back for you.
And here I was standing in the middle of a deluge.
I still love the rain. But I miss you.
