I search for you
where they wait to be fed.
Through the emptiness
of a crowded square.
There are beggars in doorways,
actors in cafés.
I have seen their mouths
fill like starved refugees.
But I am not from that world.
I wait outside like Lazarus
I read your score in the lamp light
of a cold winter's evening, when the fire
is warm and I am comfortable with myself.
It is easy to reach your thoughts in this mood.
A hint of remorse, a shade of regret, a soul
Your voice in each note easing through
- like a tempo slowly shifting.
Your melody - some faded lament, inspires
this mind to question -
To find something in the shadows.
Something beyond the light. The crackle
of an open fire, the comfort of a warm room.
I keep you here upon this wheel, and
let your body flow - like a vinyl etched
and a needle drifting.