POCKETS
Emptied of coins and keys and pulled inside out, they are unformed wings, sad nubs downy with lint and frayed threads at the seams; twin wind socks flagging the still air; sails limp in the horse latitudes; dingy guidons of a solitary company.
But from the other side they are pockets for the first time, a place for the inner man to store his few essentials-a quark for luck, a moment beyond time, the extra breaths a diver takes before he ducks his head and plunges to the bottom.
KEEP A POEM IN YOUR POCKET
Keep a poem in your pocket, and a picture in your head, and you'll never feel lonely at night when you're in bed. The little poem will sing to you. The little picture bring to you - a dozen dreams to dance to you - at night when you're in bed. So keep a picture in your pocket, and a poem in your head; and you'll never feel lonely, at night when you're in bed.
.-Beatrice Schenk de Regniers
Poem read by OisÃn N (5th class - Room 7, 2012-2013, in preparation for the Christmas 2012 Recital)
Back Pocket Clavinet cover: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=od-S_tyeBhs&ab_channel=MartinSalemi
