A Brown Paper Bag

This is an idea I had for a song some time ago and while I still like the melody of the song, I thought perhaps it could work as a poem. I brought it along to my debut of the poetry open mic event but decided against reading it and took the option of reading a poem by Kavanagh which strangely enough complemented other readings of works by Irish poets. I have made some small adjustments but the idea is pretty much the same.

A Brown Paper Bag

I can’t see myself without you being around when the blinds have gently been let down

And the sounds of the sirens outside are getting close.

You hum that distinctive rhythmic sound and take care not to heat up or burn out

And I see you as an open umbrella both inside and outside.

The lights are always on when you’re here

The party’s never losing legs and crawling back home again

And images abound to my mind and tempt me with the light of beauty

That’s seen enough to be almost real.

I can’t see myself without you being around when the time has come to gently wind down

And the beating of my skin is getting fast.

You show me another magic world and keep me up to date with every piece of it

And I see you as a black cat on the street whatever that means.

The link is not so clear to me when you are here I could be anywhere.

The time gets swallowed by the day when you are here I could be any age.

I can’t see myself without you being around when the lights are slowly going out

And the cities arteries are clearing out.

You pour yourself into a glass. I empty it dry when my throat is raw

And I see you as a brown paper bag on a rainy day.