Serenade The Potted Plants

[Diary Notes]

I was happily singing in the kitchen and then the

CharMaster stomped in with thunder and lighting

vying for place on his face, his anger palpable the

Master complained: ‘I have been listening to your

wailing for longer than an hour now, it is enough,

 

More than flesh and blood could ever be expected

to suffer’ and I knew there was not enough laundry

to wash and enough ironing to be done that would

win his forgiveness if I were to make another sound,

so outside into the golden sunshine where the cool

 

Air folds icy fingers around my arms and the sun’s

rays form fairy wings in the outside corner of my

right eye directly in the sun’s line and I’m happier

in the garden than cornered in the kitchen glowing

like a golden pearl: here I am free to sing songs

 

That make me feel younger and after living too fast,

isn’t it lovely to slow down to embrace the beautiful

memories we collected when we were young, thank

you CharMaster for sending me out with your frowns

and complaints, it’s much better in the emerald garden

 

Next to a turquoise pool where I can serenade the potted

plants which seem quite appreciative - it’ lovely out here!