They come easy and flowing in a glass of wine
or sit in the crust of a pie
while life is tottering by
They tickle me from the mouth of a friend
who offers me food to try
after declaring it “vile”
Reviving and wholesome they sweetly sneak
into my festival tent
where journeys and music mix into sleep
Pinching my heart they thrust me free
when leonard cohen, aged seventy three,
dazzled thousands and silenced me.
They softly stroke from ear to ear
as in simple calm i hear
the purring of my cats.
They rummage in rubble or dawdle sometimes
but i mostly eventually find
the bringers of my smiles
Copyright © 2009 by Catherine Turner. All rights reserved
