I am a conductor, with a baton,
waving it in the air like a maniac
urging the strings and brass into a grand crescendo
I am a conductor, with a whistle,
driving the last train onwards,
over bridges and around bends hurtling forwards
I am a dancer, with swift feet,
holding on to your hands
drawing you into a spin, and out of it.
I am a fool, with no knowledge,
sitting in an awkward silence,
knowing no answers, offering no questions.
I am a guest, with an invitation,
stepping through the front door,
sitting down for tea at the other end of the table.
I am an outsider, without a pass,
standing in the rain,
without shelter, without keys.
I am an outsider, with no qualms,
holding a blank slate,
holding on grudges, casting no blame.
I am a friend, with open palms,
walking beside you,
always here, always.