My friend Anzielika
Is wiser than most
She sits behind me piggyback
And sings us birthday songs
Because after all, she was born 12 years ago
And now the celebration
Is something we all share
So she names us off--as she goes
Happy birthday to James
Happy birthday to Kate
Happy birthday to Steve
Happy birthday to Diana
Happy birthday to Skaiste
Happy birthday Miškas
And in case you're wondering
Miškas is the cat
My friend Anzielika
Is smarter than most
She uses words when she needs to
But often just lets them go
Because a smile, a laugh, an exaggerated HMPH!
Is more than enough to communicate
Important things like love
And she goes a mile a minute
From one thing to the next
She's got a zest for life--that could
Hardly be matched
She's fun and crazy, stern and smart
But best of all
She's my friend
My friend Anzielika
Is wiser than most
She let us know what she thought
Were the presents she had got
And she said
James, my present
Kate, my present
Steve, my present
Diana, my present
Skaiste, my present
Miškas, my present
And in case you're wondering
Miškas is the cat
I can spend a lot of time thinking
On what I haven't got
But time and presence are in fact
The greatest gifts of all
Saturday, 18 February 2012
Monday, 13 February 2012
Face Music
I will invent a machine that will play the music
That your varied faces make,
So that when you are gone,
I can hear them all, your smiles,
Your frowns, your smirks, your winks,
Otherwise my memory won't serve me,
And your absence will feel too heavy.
It will also compose the thoughts and glances of
strangers, filtering those that pass
into violin arpeggios and piano notes,
Spanish guitar and keyboard tones
In my headphones,
Taking into account the details
Like raised or furrowed eyebrows,
The shapes of noses and chins,
The spreading lines of smiles and worries within.
And when I lay in bed,
The music repeats itself softly,
Trying to resolve the horns of disdain
The clashes loud in hate,
Lingering over a murmuring, lingering glance
Where a passerby passed a compliment, interest,
Or pain.
But before sleeping,
I will listen again to your face,
The beautiful melodies you believe and say,
Without saying anything,
And with a smile,
I'll mutter thanks
Harmonizing with the wind.
That your varied faces make,
So that when you are gone,
I can hear them all, your smiles,
Your frowns, your smirks, your winks,
Otherwise my memory won't serve me,
And your absence will feel too heavy.
It will also compose the thoughts and glances of
strangers, filtering those that pass
into violin arpeggios and piano notes,
Spanish guitar and keyboard tones
In my headphones,
Taking into account the details
Like raised or furrowed eyebrows,
The shapes of noses and chins,
The spreading lines of smiles and worries within.
And when I lay in bed,
The music repeats itself softly,
Trying to resolve the horns of disdain
The clashes loud in hate,
Lingering over a murmuring, lingering glance
Where a passerby passed a compliment, interest,
Or pain.
But before sleeping,
I will listen again to your face,
The beautiful melodies you believe and say,
Without saying anything,
And with a smile,
I'll mutter thanks
Harmonizing with the wind.
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