You purr in your sleep
others may snore
whereas
you
are a giant cat
a soft purr-fur whiskered-warm cat
purring-eye closed
asleep
Each day heralds a new big idea
a dream
so many - so beautiful
I never know which to pursue
so I wait to see which one may stick
then we can follow it together
A person of few words
but when it is time for you to speak
we all listen
(although you normally preface speaking with an unconscious cough so we know the big thought - the pragmatic or philosophic pearl is about to drop)
I feel like a popcorn machine who lives beside a glass of peaty whisky
Off to work in daily Yakka-tradie work clobber
a blokey-bloke - tough indeed
but the morning ritual
a spray of Italian perfume
which subtly exudes from beneath the Yakka
must be a workplace surprise
for those with a nose
Your melancholy
it makes me laugh - I know, that’s mean, but it’s true
a perpetual sense of sorry, decay and loss
the end of the world is coming
the soundtrack to this must be The Lark Ascending
or anything by Arvo Pärt
your dreamscapes and fears of decay
are full of imagination and mystery
they make me wonder and see the world differently
You’ve taught me how to appreciate delicate things
I watch you study a piece of old lace or needlework
or crystal glassware
or something finely forged - like the petals on a bronze rose
your hands are so big (but your eye is so fine)
everything you handle looks small
and so fragile
Your laugh, your joy, your day
and night
all of it
are a delight
and every year
being with you
just gets better