I wish I were a day in the world’s summer.
A couple of hours
Following each other like ducklings
Rising bright, early…
Accompanied, orchestrated
By the birds
By early labour
Or by a balcony laziness:
A coffee, a plant, a sun.
And I would linger on,
Linger on with force.
All of my touch and heat
Would drown out memories of the grey,
Of cold and wet things.
I would be a warm thing.
Not warm like blood in living veins…
Warm like seawater,
Lapping the scorching sand.
And still I would linger some more;
My light would sprawl out in garlands
Over the outline of the trees.
I’d look back at all my sunset admirers
With their bottles,
Their loud and rowdy music and
Quiet chatters accompanying my descent,
My slow death –
Of course,
With the comfort of being brought back
tomorrow,
Though replaced by another,
One like me, but not quite me,
So I could leave with some glory,
With some color.
