on the dance floor

And we fail to dance
together, to the same music
Jazz and pop don't rhyme too well
When i take a step forward
Your left foot moves to the right
I trip on the floor
the naked, cold marble floor.
I twist my angle,
i can barely stand
You own the floor,
i watch you from the corner.

Left, right, forward, backward
you move in all directions.
You swirl to the music frantically,
I'm worried that you'll collapse.
Take a break, now and then
as the tempo changes.
Get a drink, relax a bit!
Consider your next move with care
before the music swallows you,
before the jazz band takes on the floor and you miss a step...

And you have become my muse

I pick them out carefully
Testing each corner
I feel the pieces
I examine the colour
I smoothen the rough edges
I weigh it to precision.


I arrange them one by one
Under the soft-lit lamp by my bed
The stars stare down
The moon shines up
Without mockery, in their utter stillness
They watch me line up your memory

* Memories can be deceitful
   For we choose, only those we want to remember


Blocks of loneliness
Circles of confusion
Squares of uncertainty
They are shown a way out
I'd rather assemble the mismatched pieces
and paint it all white

For some are worth remembering
And you have become my muse

A mountain in my heart

There's a mountain in my heart
that which a decade of plains cannot conquer

It's stripy craggy sides
English meadows cannot replace

Under a lazy hazy March sun
i swallow the fresh air in it's fullness

The music of the hurrying wind
Mozart's cannot defeat

Occasional automobiles i hear
from hundreds of feet below

An immense expanse of sheer delight
stretches from here to there

In all shades of blue
they exhibit the painter's skill

There's a mountain in my heart
that no one can take away!

April Joy

And April Joy has long been gone
delightful May is no more
a wet-ful June is what i now possess
yet it's not really mine to claim it so
I basked in April Joy
in the glorious golden sunlight
under the dark velvetty sky
the twinkling stars were counted
The heart bounces with longing
for my April Joy again
in this wet June evening
while holding a cup of tea