Otesha

I've been here before,

the same space but remolded--

reframed for a different cast and theme.

Memories come without warning,

but warmly, welcome.

Upturned lips and far-away gaze

remembered details in rewound haze.

Steel wheels, spinning discs.

Belongings piled like nomads.
Traversing curvaceous road.

Muscles ache in protest.

But singing voices hide the pain

behind melodies and lyrics recalled

to songs once believed: 'best forgotten'

Cycling through roles

like the towns we ride though.

Strengths exposed, creativity uncovered.

We became actors, characters carved

from pieces of wood block.
Hibernating seeds underground,
supported by the forest; we sprout.

Twinkling fingers to decide,

spreads laughter to their twinkling eyes.

Sparking fire for children frozen inside

to reimagine the world.

Unanswered questions forgot, but

we were doctors of philosophy at two feet

so surely all is not lost.

Grab all the colours the world can hold

in a vessel to unfold the beauty

onto a page of hope

flavour for the black and white

hum drum drone of happenings.

Best way to keep the clouds away;
a daily dose of double rainbow.