Waking Up

There’s a saying that hangs in my family’s hall which they found in an airport
gift shop
«No deberíamos perder el tiempo»
And on Sunday I idly looked up the words on an otherwise inactive weekend
And if only I’d had it translated before
And I’ve never been one for regretting
But when I’m back home well the words trace my steps round the kitchen
There’s a sketch on my pad like a drunk spider’s web or a family tree with its
branches
Where the multiple marriages break up the flow
And the plans and the deadlines are scattered around like litter collects on
the high road
And the more you collect, it continues to spread
And the blueprints I pinned to the fridge
Are lost behind photos and letters and flyers for gigs
With the love I bestowed on the plans
Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life
I’ll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count
There’s a window at thirty degrees to the floor in the roof of an attic
conversion
It rattles in winter and creaks in the spring
And in autumn the sunshine reflects off a mirror and spotlights the frame of a
photo
But the photo’s been swapped for a checklist and boxes
On the left there’s a clock with the date
On the right there’s a pile of distractions to tempt me away
And I’ve never been one to look back
But there’s always an anecdote even when something falls flat
With the love I bestowed on the plans
Forgot all the steps that would bring it to life
I’ll plan to perfection and skip all the actions that count
And as winter transcends into spring
The light wakes me earlier every morning
And waking up early at weekends is probably the start of something