I was thinking that life is going so fast, and yet it's going perfectly
It’s hard to catch it except in the moment
Moment by moment it passes
And one day it will be gone
I almost feel like I want to put it in a box and take it with me when I go
But it's for one time only
And there's no second chance to do it again
Am I realising life for what it is?
Am I capturing the moments as they fly by?
Do I lay my love down when I dream?
Or do I embrace it and hold it to me every moment?
In the fire leap shadows and the rusty echoes of the dream source of desire, and inside the ears where the oceans spill their secrets, there lived an old black baguette, slowly rusting away, to nothing much at all really, and surrounded by the hole of a donut.
Over in the far corner was the consequential tea drinker who could not agree about the best mobile phone in the world, and so bought a cheap one just for show, and said: “I think I need to take a heart attack.”
The old black baguette didn’t care that much, it had dried raisins to eat if it got hungry, and the Umber frog to play with.
Santa Maria was looking after her teeth with sunflower seeds, but that was to be expected and anyway, it was a good day for drying.
So everybody was outside in their yards splashing water everywhere and singing custard songs of joy, as the old black baguette drifted off to sleep with a rhyme going through his mind…
If the big fat monkey jumps upside down
Inside the frown for half a crown
We shall let him have it.
And if the moon with the spoon
Comes to swoon at noon
Singing a tune
We won’t stand it its way.
And neither will we mind
If the car stuck in tar going far
With its heart on fire, smiles at us.
No, we shall not mind at all
When we fall where we fall
Singing hallelujah, and frightening crows away.
And if we sing out of date
Because we’re late of our fate
What does it matter?
With mustard for custard we shall be all smiles in the miles
Or sitting on the tiles; unless we’re ten feet under and
Mining for gold.
I can’t tell you in the swell
That my head’s on well
So make mine a double to keep me out of trouble.
I was the snake spread-eagled in the gum and trying to keep up with the mood music and the next curve coming through the door as I lay in the middle rubble of all my trouble and blowing bubbles.
That’s all, ladies and gentlemen. I shall never do rhymes ever again.
Image from Pixabay