Friday, 4 March 2011
Through the Oleander
The world sleeps, at three o'clock. It's been a hot day, the world is still. As I walk through the oleander I gather wild rosemary, fennel and mint. A sense of nostalgia pervades my senses, as I remember a little girl who loved smelling the sweet scent of oleander as she walked down an avenue by the sea promenade.
The heat of the afternoon is generous and good. It brings with it the sweetness of honey and peaches. The mind feasts on a carousel of scents, colours and sounds...
And I hear voices, I see colours, lots of colours and finally, I reach the sea. An ocean of fishing boats greet me, as I make my way through my dreams and my mind. I hear voices and the sound of the crabs, hiding under the rocks. Crabs sing a mute love song, at night, while the fish hide amongst the seaweed.
As I carry on walking, I come to a house... a little white house covered in ivy and pink, a chair and a doorway. It feels good here... and safe... a heaven tucked away somewhere in the mind. It's a resting place,
a sweet, quiet peaceful place. I will sit here, in the afternoon sun. I will close my eyes and carry on dreaming...