It is Time

There were blank canvasses in cupboards

Unwritten pages in many journals,

Oil paints in wrapping, as yet untouched.

There were books like notes

On staves, unread on shelves

And dancing shoes under the dust.

There were days of perfect sun

Light, making history on the water,

With an empty bench for the view.

There were jackets needing mending

And clutter building up

In the kitchen, pots, utensils.

There were many buttons in

Grandmother’s box, from the good old days.

Envelopes and stamps as yet unlicked, unsent.

There were photographs set on origami

Paper cranes, from which eyes

Observed the passage of time.

There were guitars in their cases

And a piano, needing tuning.

~

Take out the canvasses, dear

Today is a perfect day for painting.

Write your poetry and your gratitude

In a journal of your choosing.

Squish your oils on a palette –

Mess with colour, mix, ooze.

Take out a book that speaks

Of places yet unseen, turn pages.

Put on shoes for dancing

To the beat popping the air.

Slow into your time dear,

On the bench made for you,

To satiate your mind with all you care to see.

Take those old jackets down to charity,

The pots, utensils too.

Make mosaic button rainbows,

Write a letter in your leisure;

Then call up the tuner

And peel off the cases –

It is time to make music.

Jenneth Graser

Photography credit unknown