Stones and statues

‘Suzanne’ was playing on some background station and I was fixed upon a point where space met unreality,
a dream as yet to be as most dreams are.

The chord like knots untied me
and inside me I
lived and died
when she threw roses
from her window

but the morning flew by swiftly
and the afternoon drifted
quite slowly into
the rapidness of evening light

Marianne blew in
I knew she was there
‘on air’

and this was for me,
words that threw me lifelines
dragged me from the dark times.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.