You wake at night to sparks
like blue and yellow bullets
whizzing by the glass
and a familiar electronic hum.
On investigation you find him
busy in the black mask and you
cover your face until a pause gives him space
to see you, the question in your eyes
"I'm welding moon beams to make
a ramp among the stars"
his eyes are kinder than
even your mother's at Evie's birth.
The night glows among the
jasmine flowers and tickles softly
at the hardest part of your jaw bone.
"It's a dream" you say in argument
"Thank you" he says and smiles
and from the water feature, the frog
belches wetly in the liquid black
and his hand has found yours
warm as your mother's scones
and embedded with all the dirt
of so many years loving work.
You feel carved by him now
by the certainty of his grasp
and the intensity of the stars
in his gaze, the way his eyes
don't let go, for even a moment.
"You go to bed, darling.
I'm sorry if I woke you. My
gift will be ready in the morning."
He waves his hand across your face -
a hypnotist among other crafts -
for you find yourself curled
a sickle of warmth in the doona
and your eyelashes crescents on your cheeks.
First magpie's gurgle trickles in, muted
by the window pane, but enough to
roll you out of bed, wrinkled as your
head's pillow and just as downy.
Out in the courtyard, the deft sun
prints intricate shadows of vine leaves,
jasmine tendrils and his gift
a beautiful table wrought from
old wheel rims and your mother's
collapsed balcony - its Victorian splendour
ironically displayed in deliciously
seductive leg-work. The frog chirrups
and a wren flits blue among the potted
geraniums and incandescent rays.
Your tears mark the stone work floor -
your gratitude and grief in morse.
You know he is gone now, like your
mother's scones and the stupid balcony
and you wish it might be night again
so you could dream again
and walk with him up his ramp among the stars.
This was just terrific. I love the idea of a man welding moonbeams. Some clever wordplay going on as well. …’balcony ironically displayed in deliciously seductive seductive leg work.’Worth all the effort you have clearly put in, this is a notch above your usual high standards. Well done.
lovely, lyrical lines: the one that jumped out at me because it was unexpected and down to earth was ‘warm as your mother’s scones’ —
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Thank you. 🙂. This came to me at the kitchen sink. I have no idea why. A visitation of sorts.
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This was just terrific. I love the idea of a man welding moonbeams. Some clever wordplay going on as well. …’balcony ironically displayed in deliciously seductive seductive leg work.’Worth all the effort you have clearly put in, this is a notch above your usual high standards. Well done.
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Thank you! That’s such encouraging feedback. 🙂
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One of your best. You’ve just set your own bar a tad higher!
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Lovely lyrical peices
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Thank you. 🙂
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most welcome. I would be the happiest if you comment on my last blog. You would find a delicious meal there, you might want to know the recipe to try
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Ok. I will check it out once my kids are in bed
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Thank You
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Wow, that’s really beautiful! ❤ ❤
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Thank you. 🙂💕
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