Opportunity Knocked

Squeezed by forces hidden,
tapped by fingers frozen,
degraded on the floor
sits my wooden reeded organ.
Glancing on the keys
and peering at the black ones
I collect my thoughts and
write upon the staves.

I remember back tonight
when the coloured minds took flight
and a mesmerising murmur
wrought its songs upon the world.
The fanciful forgotten
and the trodden down and rotten
were remembered by
the voice that sang to me.

Contemporary visions
and photographs of paintings
and intertwining harmonies
were weaved into a basket.
Placed inside were records, dreams
and pent up thoughts and memories
and my blank turquoise t-shirt
and my little wooden organ.