Tuesday, 2 June 2015

Rolling Wings.

a blade

Start the day.


The Rolling Stones, Start Me Up, nice and loud – that seems appropriate.

Lucky there are no neighbours.

There’s a cat.

Give him an arthritis pill wrapped in Italian Happy and he’ll be up on his paws dancing like the rest of us.

Outside with a cup of hot lemon next?

And a bowl of museli and listen to the birds singing too.

Stones and birds.

The Rolling Wings.

Mick Feather.

Try to wake the boy, why, I don’t know, it’s what parents do.

Give him a book of Nietzsche quotations to read.

That’ll sort him.

Then into the car, off to the airport.


It’s what we do.

No comments: