the whisper of stars...?
Stretching like a cat,
I stumble upstairs for breakfast...
Looking down
from the balcony of my apartment,
I see
tangled in the branches of trees:
tiny cars.
Four hot air balloons
drift slowly over dawn's sleepy skyline,
reminding me of a page
from my
(her/our)
favourite book.
Spring embraces,
sunlight tingles the hairs on my arm.
Her rays transform me.
I smile to myself
like I am the first person on earth
to invent smiling.
I crave avocado & goat's cheese,
but make do with my weetbix & milk.
I am a boy again,
the world awaits me.
I have finally shaken off the big city...
I trade it all in for wide 'Cookie Monster' eyes,
a sense of wonder & adventure.
Later that day,
at the National Gallery of Victoria...
I'm (somewhat)
relieved to find
that I am still that little boy;
You know the one.
The one who
(trying to peer in just that little bit further
than everyone else)
still hits his head on
museum & gallery
glass displays & windows.
Can you hear
the whisper of stars...?
It is really
the sounds of
childhood
slowly
returning.
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2011.
"I see through my eyes, not with them." (William Blake)
