In the half light of waking
Through the mist of an early Sunday morning,
Orange from the sunrise
the day began.
Tumble through routeen
Auto pilot along mystical tree lined lanes
Lit by the days first rays of sunshine.
The magical warmth of summer days ahead...
It's going to be a wonderful day
It seeps in through your skin and goes straight to your soul.
It is the real 'Lord of time travel',
taking you back to a time and place where the sun always shone and life was good, or to that place that is dark and which is riddled with sadness.
It logs into your 'control panel' and over - rides your emotions,
lifting them to the skies or down to the depths.
Just a snippet and you are gone,
to a time and a place,
when you were someone else and for a while...
... you aren't who you really are.
Never seen him 'round the town
never seen him in the day.
He's the 'out late man'
the 'carrier bag man'
the 'bottle of red man'.
Never seen him clean shaven
never seen him without that coat,
he's the 'out late man'
the 'never says much man'
never laughs or never smiles...
The unhappy man.
I Dreamt of white,
as if all the stars had fallen and covered the ground.
I felt the cold of children playing,
released from their chores,
busy making memories.
I felt the bite of a freeze,
saw familiar places changed -
the normal rearranged.
Time with loved ones
extra time not planned for -
hot soup and sleeping bags...
...and then it was gone
Paper planes fly
swirling round the still Parisienne sky
down to the ground
from the little window high
above the triangle of grass
now a park
for children to play in
like I was just a child
when I made those paper planes fly
swirling round the still Parisienne sky
down to the ground
from that little window high
all those many years ago
