Take me to a Spring
where every day was as young as I
and the sun would come winking through the curtains

On a bridge from home to home
I’d find myself peeling flakes from a old storm door
sometimes tip-toeing fences or watching seabirds

Horns of the harbour created a mood like no other
as the smells of drenched grass swarm my senses
it forced me to take a breath deep, always

Then, those men. Those skippers,
two, sit comfortably on a rock
I’d leaped them clean, for sport

Where was I off?
Pass broken pickets, by streams of melt tucked against the curb
nothing mattered but the warmth of the wind
and where its blow would guide me

Ah, that was pure life
new and straight from the earth into my soul
when there was more than enough
in days gone

With age I’m left longing for sounds of a particular dory
a puttering missing from within my heart
and my dark red blood have been drained of ocean salt

Bring me a Spring like ones lost in time
where hope was as thick as the clouds
and the future would wait for me to finish playing