black friday

© Phil Chaplin- Dunk Island, QLD

frivolously frolicking, dropping daisies in the litter box

wasteful wanting, never satisfied

perfect slipped away again and the remainder remains the same

someone out there holds the key to the magic mystery

with empty shopping bags

searching for the perfect christmas present

its got your name on it

its what you really want

its the only thing left

bump

©Phil Chaplin

blurry eyes and stunted vision, the picture becomes skewed

what seemed to be the clear path appears to be obstructed

sifting through the debris of this chosen route, the path towards one

carefully wary of whats ahead and whats been left in the dust and rubble

voices carry through the darkness and the lit tunnel ahead seems to dim

"its time to grow up now" she says in a whisper

the dove flys by again one last time as the golden light turns blue

"can't we dance just a little longer, this songs not quite through"?

she waves goodbye with a backward glance knowing that we will meet again

that vision burned into the minds eye forever bringing back the same smile

the warmth of that embrace, the gentle touch as we go our seperate ways

soon and always, til next time my love