Waking, sleeping, through an August afternoon;
The weather hinting that maybe autumn's come too soon:
My favourite season, and though the mellow fruits have not arrived,
I'll settle for the mists.
But with curtains drawn, there may not even be a world outside at all,
And with eyes half open, I see her bare chest rise and fall;
And I'm not older, but the day brings wisdom on its wings,
A welcome change.
And as she slept in my arms, I bid farewell to Casanova;
I know he meant me no harm, but now it's time for starting over:
What good was he anyway?
Walking, stumbling, through the annals of my mind:
There must be something to explain this vital flaw of mine;
And I'm not persevering with this dangerous phase I'm going through:
I owe it to myself.
And with curtains open, I see the cloudburst through the dirty panes,
And with eyes tight shut, I scan my sordid brain for what remains
Of common decency or mere capacity to love,
Surprised by what I find:
And as she slept in my arms, I bid farewell to Casanova;
I know he meant me no harm, but now it's time for starting over:
What good was he anyway?
credits
from Future Youth,
released April 24, 2020
Written, performed and produced by Tom Lowen
Flute, Clarinet, Bassoon: Sue Lowen