Words coming home

I could write
But no particular subject appear

I should write
The need is suddenly there, appearing from nowhere

Opposite of writer's block, I should think
But just as desparate
Words tumbling around, looking for paper
Longing to be strung together
Looking for the sentences to which they belong

And not finding any

Where is it, the subject?
Lots of verbs around
Colourful adjectives
Even a pronoun!
But no subject to offer them context

They'll flutter around for a while
The words
In vain

Then they'll settle
Merely being part of the usual thoughts
Conversations
And dreams

Not gloriuous prose, stanzas or rhyme
But at least they will find use

And use in lovers' gentle talk
Isn't the worst of uses either

- - - - - - - - - -

Cross-posted from H2G2

[Listening to: These Boots Are Made for Walkin' - Nancy Sinatra (2:42)]

What a piece of music can do

Walking home through city streets
on a summer morning
Early. And late.

An early morning
could also be called a late night
But the sun is up, warming me
So I call it a morning

A late summer morning
could also be called early autumn
But the sun is there, warming me
So I call it a late summer

The morning is brilliant
turning water to gold, bathing hard stone in softness
speaks of the good day to come
Yet in the light
lingers the remnants of a wonderful night

The rays of sun, golden and warm
whispers about a summer so good
but also of autumn to come with leaves turning red

After the joyful bliss of summer
I don't know if it is you or I who is leaving
But we are
And we know
And it’s fine

I am ready for the changing season
for the change in life, our lives
I am happy with the summer that was
All the sun that will forever shine within me

We will always remember this summer
With fondness
Knowing that it was and will forever be
An affair to remember

- - - - -

That came out of one piece of music - "An affair to remember", the Lynne Arriale trio from the "Live at Montreux" album. Of all places, in the car - in relatively solid morning queues on the Motorring 3 North, on my way to work.

I'd recognised Lynne Arriale's piano playing and looked down at the iPod* to get the title. Half a minute into the tune the thought struck me "Bob! That is exactly what she plays!"

All the sights, sensations and emotions of the piece I put together above came out of that piano tune. I was furiously turning sentences over in my mind, lamenting the fact that I couldn't get them down on paper - or screen - in the car.

Getting into the office, I just had to get it down in words - and there it is, as near as I could do it.

And you can say that my experience with Lynne Arriale playing that song certainly is an affair I will remember :)

*Don't worry - I don't drive with earbuds... The iPod plays via the car radio...