Oh, to fly high on a breeze
catching your eye, my focus
gone, my soul in a song
I waft in a dream, dance with the
wind, twirl within Boccherini’s
Minuet, laugh with delight
Light-hearted words whispered
just below hearing, making up a
story, living on the edge
Joyously alive…
Jane Austen and Terry Pratchett
will have them blushing, so will I
While Mr Darcy’s hauteur keeps his
face immobile, Elizabeth looks away
The moment frozen to be replayed
whenever needed to reenergise
I can refresh my memory any time,
sow the seed of dreams again…
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