silverwheel
Bluelighter
I have tried to savor every image,
every sip from the cup of sensations;
have learned to walk with a better tempo,
in better step with a private soundtrack.
I have observed the scenes with resonance;
old friends by the restaurant putting on
their winter coats, parting in an evening
seemingly filmed through a deep blue filter.
I have heard my private rhythm come back
in an echo, magnified by towers
of steel, of brick and of glass, carrying
the overtones, the backing and the lead.
And I have yearned for relief, to visit
a different land, to breathe a different air,
to loose my ears from the cacophony
of that bristling urbanity, yet now,
in this small, quiet town, I cannot sleep
with this silence suffocating my thoughts.
Lying awake, I remember a girl
asleep on the train, head back, mouth agape,
tuning herself to passing bricks and leaves
and a blanket of comforting white noise.
every sip from the cup of sensations;
have learned to walk with a better tempo,
in better step with a private soundtrack.
I have observed the scenes with resonance;
old friends by the restaurant putting on
their winter coats, parting in an evening
seemingly filmed through a deep blue filter.
I have heard my private rhythm come back
in an echo, magnified by towers
of steel, of brick and of glass, carrying
the overtones, the backing and the lead.
And I have yearned for relief, to visit
a different land, to breathe a different air,
to loose my ears from the cacophony
of that bristling urbanity, yet now,
in this small, quiet town, I cannot sleep
with this silence suffocating my thoughts.
Lying awake, I remember a girl
asleep on the train, head back, mouth agape,
tuning herself to passing bricks and leaves
and a blanket of comforting white noise.
