The Ceiling. Poem by Steve Caine

The Ceiling.

I lay here with the ceiling looking down on me,
In the neon night light, I don't want to see,
I have the music from the machine sitting next to me,
With its heart song, playing its tunes for me.

Where are you? I want you here with me,
I cannot find you, lost where I'm not supposed to be,
I close my eyes and you are here next to me,
I hear your voice, and I find the peace inside me.

I have the Blues and Whites watching over me,
And needles quelling pain to comfort me,
Still, I breathe and cry in agony,
For the hand that I long to be holding me.

I am cared for by Angels in my Neverland,
In Hyena shouts and Jungle shouts, I find your hand,
Then with silent eyes, I realise the cries are mine,
and see you are here your face memorised.

You sit and walk alone, yet by my side,
In this moment in time, here I visualise,
We are together, though you are far away from me,
I am here without a map; I am lost you see.

So, when you are walking, call my name, and I will come to you,
Through the field's trees and sunshine,
….. Where we are supposed to be.