I woke up this morning to the sound of a house sparrow,
Head throbbing, but heart pierced with a cupid’s arrow,
I smiled widely, though the bright rays brought displeasure to my eyes,
Because even when I’m awake, my dream never dies.
There’s plenty to do, to write, revise and learn,
But none of those plans seem to be my concern,
My mind wonders off, manically dancing free and excited,
A spark or a flame, eternally ignited.
So should we skydive, or dodge meteors into space?
There’s a long list of to-do’s all written in upper case,
Should we surf with the dolphins, or swim in the sea?
Or sit in the shade and dream, under the old oak tree?
Don’t come too close, I feel weak at the slightest touch,
But don’t go too far, or I’ll miss you too much.
You’re not Pip, though you exceed the Great Expectations,
The world holds its breath, you’re the source of all fluctuations.
Even in the shower, when you’re reflecting, as you do,
Your fingers on the fogged up glass, stickmen and ducks you drew,
Your mind trying to grasp the problems and emotions,
Thoughts and ideas drowning in the vast blue oceans,
Now Jones, I have a question; can I join you on your quest?
Before we go, I’ll sing you a lullaby so that you can get some rest.