Sunday Morning Coffee Love

I love this song.

It takes me back to the time when I was a wee lad, with tentacles that were mysteriously ventured guesses of a lovely sounding lullaby wept into song by a pretty grade school teacher whose smile proved stimuli to my innocent senses. I ran with these singularly vested lyrics in a strongly absurd manner of clumsy, until I reached a teenage boy; re-learning the proverbs in a classic rock style with disco move answers to a college girls luminescence.

Over time, I ran into an age that fit me better still. Its moody embrace would throw me all the way back to the places I never rightly trusted, but duly trespassed; with the veracity of moonshine and crazy love songs I didn’t have to totally understand in order to abide. This song pushes me into the sweetly of all sounding places, without asking permission for such a thing.

It reminds me of the journey to that righteous place. A trip which requires a great deal of patience, an everlasting faith and a bare naked honesty. This righteous place is where the heart learns the peace of Sunday mornings and the soul nourishing qualities of a flower’s perfume, and the comforting blanket of a summer wind and the bittersweet symphony of winter’s lonesome grip. It’s where the heart flutters sweetly and the soul sings to mysteries unraveled and a spool of time flickers in sublime currents of a sweet and everlasting glow.

It’s where the heart dreams mightily and the nights speak a poetry to all the unknown places. It is in this magical place where the sun screams madly of ancient rhymes and the moon strikes its match to all the lonely planets of forever. And the stars, they run hard and long and wild along an endless beach  . . .




9 thoughts on “Sunday Morning Coffee Love

  1. I’m loving this surprise poetry jam you got going on here … “pushes me into the sweetly of all sounding places, without asking permission …” that was pretty nice. Well done buddy. Have a great week.

  2. This made me think of Wordsworth (strangely enough), specifically his poem My Heart Leaps Up whereby he describes (in briefest terms) the stages of man. The prompt for his passion is a rainbow, yours a song. I remember that song.

    Beautiful. Rainbows, words, faces, songs. It’s all just something, isn’t it?

    Thanks for the coffee love.

    • Mary, I’m sorry about all of what happened before. I love your words. And I’ll be happening by your place more and more when I get my new blog running. I need lessons. And you? Always supply. Peace and love.

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