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There was a time
when I would sharpen a flute from straw,
play music and draw rain and thunder.
The sky-dome would lift
releasing golden sun, relieve the mist
covering meadows and fields �
I can still remember!
There was a time when I would roam
the woods, fish at depths of lakes,
throw pebbles at ponds - playing frogies
doing hop skip and jump.
Girls would pass me by for other guys,
�rustic and mellow,� they�d call
away they�d go to exotic pubs
where they�d tuck in gravy on spuds.
Wandering over hills and dales,
I�d gather acorns, buds and butterflies
to grow seeds at our back garden,
watching how fast they�d ascend.
And now, still a solitary man
I possess no riches - a careless hand.
I still wander through woods
scaling distant lands where I ramble
by chance;
and trespass nature�s privacy
far from home. Forests talk to me
trees wave me forwards, birds twitter -
while the sky throws blessings at me.
Dead leaves zigzag to earth,
the ones while alive had dated the sun.
Green was their lips, fresh was their scents,
thrived as a baby to a mother tree
that�d brought them to breed.
I follow the whispers, whistling and burstling,
as wind darns the branches of trees;
a melancholy song about faraway lands
about battles lost, as the voice shrieks.
I listen and feel as I dodge the trees
stepping over insects and caressing shrubs �
far far away a cuckoo sings
a welcoming note for travellers like me.
On deserted patches and hills I ascend
free from humans still not alone;
the trees, the butterflies, the doves around �
it�s a world where Alice had been.
Time had passed I still play the flute -
still entice the birds, the rain, the thunder
still well alone as I�d always been,
a solitary man as in the past.
Innocently the river tracks down
Dodging humps of earth, she flows
Her heart beat rustles
Chuckles with a splash
And whistles round the bend
as its bulk extends.
Under the eye of the sun she drifts
Between human habitations and nature
Through spider legs of vegetation
Rumbling, grumbling, moaning.
Beyond the rocks
Where green velvet and rock-face kisses,
Sand dunes crumble and reappear
By the gusts of wind,
I sit, wet feet, counting pebbles,
Pebbles splashed with spongy ripples
As the day ends -
Spying, squinting, watching;
Replica of free flow of life.