*Michael Parkes* The Music Of Water
The Senses
Today
My
Morning
Tea
Tastes
Of
The
Stable
Where
I used
To
Play,
The
Scent
Of
Dust
And
Hay,
The
Horses
Gone
Away.
I climbed
Into
A
Brittle
Carriage,
The
Leather
Hood
Stiff
With
Time,
The
Crumbling
Seat
Cracked
Like
Stone,
And
Me,
Quite
Alone
To
Hear
The
Past
Whisper,
Nothing
Lasts.
Today
My
Morning
Tea
Tastes
Of
The
Stable
Where
I used
To
Play,
The
Scent
Of
Dust
And
Hay,
The
Horses
Gone
Away.
I climbed
Into
A
Brittle
Carriage,
The
Leather
Hood
Stiff
With
Time,
The
Crumbling
Seat
Cracked
Like
Stone,
And
Me,
Quite
Alone
To
Hear
The
Past
Whisper,
Nothing
Lasts.
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