January 28, 2001

A copy of last weeks Sunday paper, lies neglected on the floor.
A coffee cup, with stone cold dregs, floats a moth upon the surface
The fan moves the stale, hot air around the stifling room
The same tune on the CD player drones on and on relentlessly
How could creativity survive in such a bloody mess?
No wonder you have writer’s block your brain’s gone soft!

So she left you did she? She of the voice so low and soft
She cast you of like dirty clothes upon an even dirtier floor
Are you going to wallow in self pity, look at you, you’re a mess!
You never saw beneath the shiny hard veneer, that so bright surface.
It was never your heart…she hounded your bank account relentlessly.
For god’s sake get up, shower, dress and get out of this room.

You realize, that I could get a hundred bucks a week, a room?
My accountant and my friends think I’ve gone soft
You see, normally I would be banging on the door relentlessly
Then your belongings would be on the hallway floor.
Maybe I see something wonderful beneath the surface
Just maybe we can salvage something from this mess

My father used to say it was “the sergeants ran the mess”
If you need a person to take charge my dear, I’m right here in the room
Oh I can be a bossy “know it all” upon the surface
But beneath it all, my hearts marshmallow soft.
Open the drapes and windows, wide, let sunlight spill across the floor
While you go eat, I’ll clean this place relentlessly.

Now, with you gone for just a while, the pain returns relentlessly
I look into the glass and find a tear- stained mess
So I wash my face and start to sweep the grimy floor.
I strip the bed and the smell of you pervades the room
And let’s me for a moment, imagine your kisses soft
I feel the passion grow below the placid surface.

Back so soon, you take my hand and stroke the grubby surface
I pull away, and polish, sweep and dust relentlessly
And hear your chuckle and then laughter soft
“Ah Maggie dear, the place is still a mess!
Let’s clear a space for dancing in the room.”
Then you take my hand and waltz me round the floor.

We seem to float across the floor and barely touch the surface
Music fills the confines of the room and still we dance relentlessly
We can’t see the mess and I lose myself deep in your eyes so soft.

Posted by Midus at January 28, 2001 07:18 AM