Let me write this here before all is forgotten. Let me write this here before I lose that spark.
I had been listening to Benedict Cumberbatch’s reading of John Keat’s Ode to a Nightingale the whole day and the following verse just came out almost naturally last night to me which I then posted as a Facebook status.
That I were born for another sunrise to love and be loved,
I’d take my heart, wear it upon my sleeve for the world to see
That thou, my dear, thou art the air that thrusts mine life to live.
Thou art the beacon of hope that many men doth seek.
I may be a bit rusty from writing poems but I think it’s not at all that bad. I indicated in my Facebook status that this might just be a random unfinished poem but I am not too confident I would ever get to finish this or add a few more lines to complete it as I’m scared I might ruin the magic contained in the making of this poem. I don’t want to ruin the spur of the moment beauty it has to me so perhaps I will leave it as is. Who knows, really. I am just delighted I get to write one of these again. It’s like fairy dust or lightning in a bottle.