It seems Irony drips of every I touch these days. Is it the dew that settles on new days leaves, from the remnamts of the day before. The mistakes, the apologies, the regrets, the moments of tenderness. I found an old notepad that I had scribbled some th0ughts on back on 2003. I remember this day sitting in the chelsea teahouse, having a coffee, and a very guilty smoke. I saw this mum and her little boy walking past.
“He chatters away walking three feet behind..mum mum mum
She strides of ahead , so may thoughts in her mind…hum drum hum
Only months before she waited on his first word, when will it come,
now his talking away and barely heard, listen to your son.
The years will run by and those words will be lost, never to return,
If she had captured them now and treasured there sound, her love he would learn.
and billy said that, and johnny said this, can I go for a ride today,
more than words that are said, there is a cry in the tone, listen mummy I pray.
All it takes is a turn, and the catch of an eye, and what was that you said,
if your to busy to listen, your too busy in life, stop and turn instead.”
