Cradling That Record Stylus - Poem by Mark Heathcote
I can remember cradling that needle in my hand
And it, crackling at the beginning of every 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; just, when the steam would rise.
I remember when the record stylus returned to rest…
I remember the streetlight like an allium seed
And you were cradled in my arms
In the ink of many colours
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.
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