picked up
an old coat
dipped
hands in pockets
picked up
a used ticket
dipped
hands in pockets
picked up
unstamped letters
dipped
hands in pockets
picked up
useless habits
dipped
hands in pockets
picked up
restless dreams
dipped
hands in pockets
(it’s just another day)
the could’ves, the should’ves, and the never-dids
the would’ves, and the won’ts
some weren’t-to-bes and what-nots
some forget-me-nots and why-nots
the might’ve-gots and won’t-be-gots
the shan’t-haves, the can’t-haves
the probably-never-would’ve-anyways
and the but-we-thought-we-had-everythings.
Because imagine
Imagine a world in which that was enough
Because I had enough
Elsewhere
And if that were enough
I wouldn’t need any more.
But there are as many worlds as mirrors.
Imagine a world —
a different glimmer of the disco-ball
a flicker of glass away from here, a crack
a hair’s breadth.
A moment.
Imagine a world —
Imagine a —
Lost.
The moment, lost.
Lost with its beauty, latent, potent, gone.
Laden, then lost
at sea.
As ships upon the sea.
As many words as ships upon the sea.
Sailor, spy.
A sailor’s spyglass at sea.
How I felt upon seeing that bright spot in the sky.
A single, bright star.
So long had I been gazing upon a different sky that I was quite shocked to see it. A single, bright, close star.
My eyes glued to the star as the taxi streaked quietly on into the gloaming, and the star through the window grew only brighter.
And again, she thought that she might cry.
To England, where my heart lies.
Sweet hymnal music and the chirp of springtime’s birds.
Brickwork, colours so varied and subtle, aged. Repainted, refreshed, changed, restored.
Pink Mayfair! Oh, glory!
Just to walk there — here, there, and everywhere — just to walk there is to live. Not for so long — so long — have I felt so alive.
Magical: Day One 