30th Oct 2009
In Awe Of A Mirror Ball
This mirror ball’s a slung moon
That heaves the tides of new tunes
That slap the yellow sides smooth
Of an old wood ship that moves
Mysterious beneath you -
That rocks, creaks, leaks and, sighing
Capsizes, tips us all in
To swim and find we’re breathing -
Glad of leaning out towards
A fine silver glittered orb
Fiona Bevan
