idiopolitical musings

[Shibboleth]

Same old, same old. Your ‘political commentator’ hat is full of holes as ever – I’m fairly sure Clark will have his own subscriptions to gain an objective view, but you live in hope I guess. I thought you were going to give us some of the ordinary stuff you get up to, Michael? What really runs through the neurones in the wee hours. Not Ed Milliband surely, unless you have a secret fetish you haven’t told us about before…

I write prose and poetry and songs to pass the time when I can’t sleep. Here’s last nights effort to hopefully stimulate your imagination…

Before Dawn

In the hush before the morning breaks,
I catch the scent the night still keeps,
A ghost of rain, of you, of spring —
It drifts across my half-formed sleep.
The world is pale, the curtains sigh,
A breath, a trace, a whispered name,
And though I reach through empty air,
The warmth still answers just the same.

You are the light that doesn’t fade,
The quiet pulse beneath the day,
Though time has thieved the form I knew,
It cannot take the scent of you.

Your laughter sings in kettle’s steam,
The mirror blooms with morning’s dew,
I see your shadow brush the wall,
Then fade as if it always knew.
And I am neither lost nor found,
Just drifting where our echoes meet,
Between the dawn’s forgiving hands,
And memory’s unending beat.

The clock forgets its ticking heart,
The birds begin, then hush their song,
For just a breath, the world stands still —
And you return, before the dawn.

So I will rise and face the day,
As dream and daylight intertwine,
For though the years have slipped away,
Your spirit wakes in scent and shine.
And somewhere past the hint of blue,
Where love outlives the passing yawn,
I’ll meet you there — as light meets hue —
And hold you close, before the dawn.

[michael norton]

Shibboleth
top poem, thank you very much.

[Author]

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