poem for david gilmour

slow, sweet sound,
how i love you...

if music be the food of love, play on,
i want to gorge myself
until i'm full, and fat, and sick,

that strain again! it had a dying fall,
it fell over my ears like the drowsy breeze
fluttering a field of vivid blossoms,
hypnotizing endless crystal cloudless sky,
perfect blue, and emerald green,
and poppies, poppies,
poppies...

i awake from a trance as the music ends,
feel a flutter in my chest,
and hit play again.

cairn

i placed a stone, and sang a song,
fi ome
and another stone,
crawling through crisp fallen leaves,
fi fi ome
and another stone,
by the crumbling wall in the woods,
fi fi fi ome
and so it was done,
and i buried a penny where the paths crossed.