The Antidote.

Thumbing through the loose threads at the knees of my trf jeans
I listen to the huskiness of Paolo Nutini’s voice as he strikes a soft G.
I wonder why the neighbour’s dogs have stopped barking
Could it be that they’ve lost their voice?
Or perhaps bashfulness is at their senses’ reach
If only I could sniff just as well...
But maybe they’re also like me
Picking up the pieces
Of whatever’s left of the pellet on the floor
And maybe just like me
Summer is their favourite season
A time of rice cakes and strawberry milkshakes
Sunsets and cheese omelettes
Bicycle rides and ipod tunes
Whistles and stares
(Though I wouldn’t be bothered)
Making dog-ears in my beloved paperbacks
Rendezvous with my polygamous lovers-
There’s Coke after lunch
Ice creams at supper
And Cadbury whenever
Poetic License. Geraniums.Orchids.Daffodils.
Treading barefoot
Along my custom-made valley
A prerequisite for the mountain heights
Whistling on a rainy Sunday
With a drenched cardboard for cover
Listening
Seeking
Waiting
Enjoying
Living for moments that take my breath away...