Posts Tagged ‘decompression’

Time, Time, Time, see what’s become of me

September 17, 2010

Friday, September 17

It’s time to create my wrap up piece and words fail me, only because every word has been used over the years and while I recognize, honor and dig that my experience is as unique as the other some 51,000’s, (and that’s just this year) as a writer I have to put down what it all meant to me.

I met Genie and it was wonderful, those pendants are amazing. Can I wear it everyday or is that just bragging and overdoing it?  😉 Let ‘s stay in touch, decompress or something together?

I will gather thoughts and attempt to put words to them here, at some point that speak more to the whole.

For now I want to thank all of you who read this and encouraged me. It exceeded every hope I had, I miss being there with every cell in my body and feel out of place and sync here, but here I am and am trying to enjoy the present.

I realized it’s not a myth, it’s real. And now I think, where is everyone? Why isn’t everyone looking me in the eye? And smiling, speaking? What’s with these walls and schedules?

I want to give people pretty journals and pens just because, I want to wear heaps of jewelery given to me by stranger-friends, for now I’ll try to remember to speak to people, not be afraid, smile and reach out.

How are you? Tell me please.

Much love to all of you, til the words come.

Time, see what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities.

I was so hard to please.
Look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

Hear the Salvation Army band.
Down by the riverside’s
Bound to be a better ride
Than what you’ve got planned.

Carry your cup in your hand.
And look around.
Leaves are brown.
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.

Hang on to your hopes, my friend.
That’s an easy thing to say,
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again.
Look around,
The grass is high,
The fields are ripe,
It’s the springtime of my life.

Seasons change with the scenery;
Weaving time in a tapestry.
Won’t you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme.

Drinking my vodka and lime,
I look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.
-Paul Simon, Hazy Shade of Winter