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i go to sleep to the rain
its pitter-patter in my brain;
i am in that room again
my Paris boudoir,
French whisperings
and yet,
i sleep alone.
i draw the curtains
just before dawn
before the sun rises,
sky is clear
rain dispersed.
menacing clouds on the horizon
sit black, silent,
yet imminent
ever-present
memories
ebbing and flowing.
i rush to the sea
its immensity swallows me whole
my doubts and forebodings
diminished
warmth emanates from the Sydney sky
as i float far from shore,
far from the lonely crowd
spinning aimlessly in their heads,
living without life
breathing without air
looking but not seeing.
i see it in their eyes
glazed over, blind;
they eat the bread
and drink the wine
offered
from gloved hands
without a questioning glance,
devoid of love or gratitude.
i stay away,
a stowaway
in my sea-bed
far
from those lonely people.
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