Saturday, 5 August 2017

notes from a tiny box, 5/August/17

there's only me, the last remaining from the 'party'..... a peculiar feeling when all that's left is the space so recent filled with words and shape now just move like echoes dying fast......... so often I'm the last of the few but rarely the last of the last... omega man...... surrounded by a come-and-go now flayed of any evidence........ melancholy.... maybe a hope I'll find me here again but for these moments I'm between the cracks remembering the tangle of emotion, thought, anxiety that ploughed me through the week now gone...... in the company of buzzards, four..... magpies, three (a sign?)...... blackbirds, two being shouty...... robin, one.... and a vacuum cleaner sucking up the words collecting dust left littered in a wake......waiting, writing, waiting, writing, waiting, waiting, waiting..... minutes flirt with hours dabbling in different shades of silence.... garden silence, kitchen silence, stairway silence, book silence, hidden silence...... til I've been forgotten by the world, not altogether so bad, and yet....... clouds make for good company but are not much for conversation...... the longer longer become the longer it is........ my eyes have lost the will for words having had enough for today, words read and words written but for these words I'm writing here for you, for your eyes only........

© robert greig 2017

1 comment:

Martin Kloess said...

...words which took me away.