Light shines on roofs made silver by the rain
Turned dazzling golden mirrors by the sun
As tiles some ancient armourer had begun
To fashion from a hard metallic plate,
When your energy goes
Your lights go dim
It happens to her
It happens to him
What could have been
Should have been
Might have been
Dizzy with the prelunch wine
I try to connect a scattered brain
So as to invent, think up, create if you like
A thing worth painting, writing, making.
The old men dance in the spring or would like to
And some believe it makes spring happen.
Others alas can no longer dance
And believe that spring dances around them.