A Thin Slice of Lemon
 


There’s a thin slice of lemon
waltzing through heaven:
the waxing right half of the moon.
And you can’t help but envy
his excellent memory
and wonderful nose for a tune.

There’s a faraway island
aglow like a diamond:
it’s Venus, the queen of the sky.
And perhaps you’re the writer
whose pen can decipher
the whispers that dance in her eye.

No longer will I sleep away the morning.
No longer will I stay awake all night.
She’ll reappear just as the day is dawning.
I’ll rise and shine as soon as it gets light.

There’s this lad at the harbour
who’s shy of the barber
but expert at rhythm ‘n’ blues.
He’s a hit with the tourists
as well as the purists
but still can’t afford any shoes.

We met by the bunkers
one night. I was drunk as
a tinker, the truth on my tongue.
He noticed me humming
to what he was strumming
and asked me: Had I ever sung?

Well, at first I was wary.
The prospect was scary.
I didn’t dare dream I’d sing lead.
But a spot of tuition
from this young musician
was all the permission I’d need.

If only there was whiskey in the morning,
I wouldn’t have to stay awake all night.
A pick-me-up just as the day was dawning.
I’d rise and shine as soon as it was light.

There’s a thin slice of lemon
waltzing through heaven:
the waxing right half of the moon.
And you can’t help but envy
his excellent memory
and wonderful nose for a tune.

There’s a faraway island
aglow like a diamond:
it’s Venus, the queen of the sky.
And perhaps you’re the writer
whose pen can decipher
the whispers that dance in her eye.

No longer will I sleep away the morning.
No longer will I stay awake all night.
She’ll reappear just as the day is dawning.
I’ll rise and shine as soon as it gets light.

Duncan Gillies MacLaurin

If you have any comments on this poem, Duncan Gillies MacLaurin would be pleased to hear from you.