Tuesday, 21 May 2013

busker and I

knock knock knocking 
on heavens door 
more than reminiscent of the poem 
i wrote to you lord
and every song to follow 
spoke to the depths of my soul 
something deep inside
something ethereal 
am i, still knocking?
or is there something blocking 
that door? Lord, 
if for one moment in time
I could feel the way I felt 
on that bus, all those years ago
It would be so much easier
to throw it all away
Lord when he finished 
after so much time passed
I went up to him and handed him a fiver 
and I told him he played a great set
(other people, they just left)
he looked into my eyes and I knew that
he knew what I meant when I said 
that he played a great set. 
 With a smile and a thank you, 
I said see you around 
and turned away 
-a bit too fast-
(always hasty)