Cradling That Record Stylus Poem by Mark Heathcote

I remember cradling that stylus needle in my hand
and it crackling, the beginning of every pop song
as it began to increase in volume and lift my soul
I remember dancing and looking into your eyes
a bowl of syrupy porridge when the steam would rise.
I remember when the record stylus returned to rest
I remember the streetlight like an allium seed head
and you were cradled in my arms
In the ink of many colours, not just Jimi Hendrix's purple haze
I remember it was night, but there was a rainbow
over you and me again as the moon began to sink or rise.
I can remember cradling that record stylus
like it carried your soul and even mine in your eyes.
I can remember dancing and sleeping beneath the stars
I can remember hearing that heavenly music crackling
all over, again, again, again-with-you
till at one point, it became a heavenly choir
till at one point, it became a heavenly chorus with you
I remember when that record stylus returned to rest
I can remember the streetlight like an allium seed
and you, you were cradled in my arms
ready to grow again; ready to go once again
I remember it was night, but
there was a rainbow in the sky
a syrupy light twinkled in your eye.