Waking Up -

There’s a saying that hangs in my family’s hall which they found in an airport

gift shop

«No deberíamos perder el tiempo»

And on Sunday I idly looked up the words on an otherwise inactive weekend

And if only I’d had it translated before

And I’ve never been one for regretting

But when I’m back home well the words trace my steps round the kitchen

There’s a sketch on my pad like a drunk spider’s web or a family tree with its

branches

Where the multiple marriages break up the flow

And the plans and the deadlines are scattered around like litter collects on

the high road

And the more you collect, it continues to spread

And the blueprints I pinned to the fridge

Are lost behind photos and letters and flyers for gigs

With the love I bestowed on the plans

Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life

I’ll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count

There’s a window at thirty degrees to the floor in the roof of an attic

conversion

It rattles in winter and creaks in the spring

And in autumn the sunshine reflects off a mirror and spotlights the frame of a

photo

But the photo’s been swapped for a checklist and boxes

On the left there’s a clock with the date

On the right there’s a pile of distractions to tempt me away

And I’ve never been one to look back

But there’s always an anecdote even when something falls flat

With the love I bestowed on the plans

Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life

I’ll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count

And as winter transcends into spring

The light wakes me earlier every morning

And waking up early at weekends is probably the start of something