I wrote this nearly a decade ago … and I remember so many of the experiences that I included …
The song the words made on the page: frogs are jumping; fish are leaping and the summer is teasing. The morning star jumps out of the blue. Light cartwheels in delight. Mozart plays on the radio. Blissed out, I lean on the lighter mornings. Onto the beach and sea-polished stones get picked up by kids to make a face in the sand. There is a galaxy of memories. The sky is washed with them. They come from everywhere on a chance conversation: night falls and the sky becomes a riot of trillions of stars. We crane our heads, hypnotised. The valley below breathes quietly. The sun is drenched in the colours of a song that the words made.
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© 2014 Rick Frame
School Of Blue 