In a different world

 

                                                                             

In a different world, perhaps

I would be in a different land –

Warmer, laced in sunset seas

I could be the dreamer that

I don’t have time to be

 

In a different world, perhaps

I would stick to paper and ink;

Maybe colours for sunsets

And the occasional red lips

Of your unknown hidden face

 

In a different world, perhaps

I would sleep under the stars

And tell you unheard names of constellations

Sounding like the light paperback

That would bear my pseudonym

 

In that world perhaps, the book

Would have many empty pages

And there would be no need

To scramble for a bit of space

Between packed lines of blotting ink

 

In one of those empty pages, perhaps

One day, would I wonder

How life would be, in a different world,

Turgid, frothing ; for that one faulty second

A sense of lost longing, but lonely and so vaguely familiar ….

 

22^nd June’ 2024