Picturing Where I Want to Be

There is a place I want to go,
So please indulge this harmless fantasy
That I want to share with you.
I’m not sure if it exists in reality,
But if I can picture it in words,
Then maybe you’ll be there with me.

I’m not looking for somewhere grand.
It starts with a wooden dance floor,
Found underneath a starry sky
And just outside my back door.
We’re thronged by friends;
None care how we look, or what we wore.

There’s music playing that we enjoy;
Some indie-pop, with beat and melody.
It moves us to jump about
And makes us feel that we’re finally free.
It’s by a band that’s good but ill remembered,
Like Preston School of Industry.

It’s the time for long shorts and short sleeves.
I’m drinking a pint of bitter shandy.
But it’s not too hot, meaning we can dance
For just as long as we fancy.
There’s plenty of food, good for all ages,
Fruit salad, sausage rolls, and heaped bowls of candy.

There are tall trees about us,
So if the night wind blows cold, we’ll never know.
The kids are running over the dance floor,
Then across the surrounding meadow.
The adults are talking, laughing, and messing around;
The older they are, the younger they grow.

The night goes on, so short, so long,
Stretching itself into the morn.
We’re all sleepy but happy,
Anticipating the dawn.
No-one need worry about the drive home;
There’s a snug bed waiting for everyone.

When we finally awake,
Our bodies feel loose, like new-born.
Tomorrow shines like a sun;
All our cares are long gone.
There’s plenty of sausages and eggs,
And the bacon’s well done.

By this poem’s end, you’ll already know,
If you’re coming to the place I want to be.
I’m drawing it with words,
Though it goes beyond what eyes can see.
The best thing about my picture,
Is that you’ll be there with me.

1 Comment

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