Indian Summer

 

An Indian summer in October

A non uniform day in the dirge of dreariness

In you swept unannounced

A hurling hurricane

A sea of calm

A pocket of promises waiting to be unearthed 

You found me in the dearth of my moldy life

You scalpel scraped the pallet clean

Sprouted taste buds where once before lay some withered woes

Alas, you’re an avocado!

All the good fat and none of the guilt

A perfect day with an old best friend 

The only thing imperfect about a day spent with you is that it has to end my friend

 

Because I want movie love and nothing less

I want Disney characters sickly sweet serenading me through the sprinkled streets

And a hopeless romantic, charming not frantic, gliding glass slippers on my awaiting feet

 

With your candy floss curls

Jackson knows you rock my world

Elton says I want love

Actually 

I want the world

I want the whole world

Nobody ever goes in

Nobody ever comes out

The hokey pokey ain’t what it’s all about

It’s you and me

A cup of tea

and thai food fit for three

 

Because every night feels like Christmas eve 

And I don’t even have to believe in Father Christmas

Or make a wish list

Just close my eyes

and I get butterflies at the thought of you 

Those soppy, soaking, camembert dripping, jaw locked, tongue-tied, killer chorus loving songs

all make perfect sense now I’ve met you 

I now only see in sepia 

and a tiny harmonica plays in my ear 

and when I think of Paris 

Audrey Hepburn reappears 

Because you’re a polaroid of perfection

An auto-tune without correction 

A hipster film without pretension 

Poetry with no need for explanation

 

And the summer ice cream days and burnt orange walkways 

And the hide and seek with natures playground

The crunch and crackle and lying horizontal 

The droppings and fag ends and forgetting where time ends and begins

And the hilltop lollypops and teddy bear soft spots

The golden nectar now a liquid rouge guzzling down some cheese based food

And the honey-waxed sax singing the blues 

Coach trips and train rides, bouncing bikes and scones

Never feeling alone 

Now I’ve met you

You’re the salt to my caramel 

The almond to my butter

And I’ll be forever grateful

To have found my Indian Summer.