Pick up the cotton, needle the thread,
repair all the injured, revive all the dead.
Colour the sky, with earth’s only sun,
wave flamboyantly ecstatic, toward everyone.
Welcome the laughter, acknowledge the crowd,
shout from the rooftops, sing out aloud.
Wash all your sadness down life’s vacant drains,
call for the clowns and you’re smiling again.
Lift up the pulleys, draw back the string,
open the windows let living back in.
Decorate streets with ticker tape fayre,
dance with the wind in your flowingly hair.
Sit on the steps, throw back your head,
shake hands with the injured, reminisce with the dead.
Follow your wishes to image these scenes,
Once life tears the cotton from your needle thread dreams.
© Nick Hawkins, all poetry rights reserved 2012