Begging The Minstrels

Don’t play those songs for me that set me weeping,

Keep your lyrics locked inside yourself,

Don’t write the words that set my pulse to racing,

Hide them in some pages on a shelf.

Don’t pen the poignant notes that make me shiver

You’re strumming on my strings and take me higher,

Out beyond mere sound and softest downstrokes,

Way out somewhere where the air’s on fire,

Set to flame by rising pyrotechnics,

Your words and music, tone and then your voice,

They play upon my sweetest keys and whisper,

The music flows right through me, I’ve no choice

But to harken to the chords and let them wander

Deep into my soul and give them wing,

You play your words and music, I’m rapt listening,

Don’t stop, keep on, it hurts but let them sing.

Mere words alone can never do this damage,

It takes music set to rhythm, to a score,

Play on, you minstrels, poetry in love notes,

Melodies with muse, I beg for more.

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Slice Of Sunday

I love Sundays. They’re so – what’s the word – languorous. I still wake early but there’s a whole other tempo to the waking and the day ahead. Instead of rushing about and prepping for work with minutes chasing each other around on the clock I get to come to slowly and the minutes themselves seem to slow down with me.

It’s after nine now and no one is up apart from hubs who’s heading off to a race meet – don’t know where he gets his energy. He’ll run rings round some cross-country or road event while I drink coffee in bed and catch up on blogs. The kids will surface eventually – all sleepy-eyed and tousled. Maybe they’ll jump in beside me for a snuggle before heading downstairs to watch some TV and munch cereal. They’re at the age now where I don’t need to be the one pouring Corn Flakes. It’s a simple thing but so pleasant not to have to be on duty.

I don’t even know why I’m telling you this stuff. I don’t even do it on FB! But, you’re all kind of our there at different points in your own day, maybe getting busy for some event or relaxing too. You might even still be sleeping. In which case, I’m talking to myself! But that’s ok. At some point you’ll rouse too and begin your day in whatever way you do on a Sunday.

I hope it’s a pleasant one. One where you have company if you want or need it, or a quiet, peaceful one like mine.

Anything I have to do can be pushed back for a few hours and that is why I love Sundays. Pressure off. Time to muse and peruse.

The minute hand will return to normal speed eventually, later today. But, right now, it’s sipping coffee with me and we’re pals.

Have a great day.