When I woke up last Sunday afternoon
from my daily nap I could vaguely hear
a melancholy voice singing in my head.
It happens to me at times I can hear a
tiny tune like that for my inner ear just
in the moment I wake up. Those fairy
tunes dancing around in my mind are
certainly rarer than dreams. But like a
dream they mostly vanish before being
stored in my memory. This time I was
lucky to identify Tracy Chapman
singing her song “Spring”.
I know this time I won’t be able to forgive
and forget – even though I also know it was
nothing more than a blunder and nothing
to heed. Yet, it was an indifference shown,
stating (again) how life would be with you.
(I took a short afternoon nap mature in age,
yet a head filled with young and romantic
dreams. I woke shortly after and it was like
hundred years later and I was well-read
and wise and so very gray-haired – and
I who was so confident and happy yesterday!
And I’m a bit blue and scattered now, but my
distress is not deep. It rather feels like I fully
sinking down in my shoes. Not as if I’ve been
tiptoeing for you. No, but I’ve just the feeling
I’m now coming fully to myself.
(And a soothing songbird has sung for me in my
dreams, telling me it’s all ok and I will be fine.)