Why is it that after a nap in the afternoon, that's what nanny's do, you know, that sleep evades as night time comes?
Scratch my head as on said bed, I sit and wait with net in hand to catch sleep of which now evades me.
Fading into tomorrow time,
Fortunately tomorrow's mine.
Watching Rick Wakeman, playing Vivaldi, dissecting four seasons.
That in itself most pleasing.
Painting pictures with music's imagination.
A reason for being awake.
Thank God for Vivaldi.
(c)LIVVI