Barrymore’s Turnstile

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Barrymore was in a hurry 

without a moment to waste

across the great divide of  time

the width of too much space

He reached into his pocket

but the token did not find

the turnstile wouldn’t budge an inch

and then it crossed his mind

To fly across the frontier 

To find another way

continue with his mission

or be deterred with this delay

It seemed as if the moments 

all compressed as one

hours within seconds

since his dilemma had begun

a kindly motion woke him 

then in his hand a token

he passed the turnstile’s barrier

and he turned to thank the man

the crowd was like a river

the waves of people tossed

his benefactor washed away

and soon was mixed and lost

Barry caught the train

without a moment’s waste

across the great divide of  time

and the width of too much space

across the great divide of  time

and the width of too much space

across the great divide of  time

and the width of too much space

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Another day…

The mass of souls in transit

a thousand unsung songs

united by separate unity

the path that’s ever long

They share the same direction 

But go their separate ways

each searching for the same thing

each acting in their own plays

At each stop someone gets off 

and someone else gets on

Repeating and repeating

The path that’s ever long 

Barry waits for his turn

standing in the turnstile line

He feels this takes forever

But it’s really only time

The man in front of Barrymore

Was searching frantically

He couldn’t find the token

Seemed an eternity 

Barrymore had bought an extra

So he pushed it into the slot 

The man, surprised, was pushed forward

He went through like a shot

The man looked to find his benefactor

He looked left and then looked right

Barrymore slipped into the crowd

And disappeared from sight 

The man caught his train

without a moment’s waste

across the great divide of  time

and the width of too much space

©2019 Lance Harrison

Again, the music came first. A groove in my head. I gave the song a random association title. I thought the drums reminded me of Barrymore Barlow, one of the great drummers from Jethro Tull, and I have no idea why I thought of a turnstile. It was just a part of the random chaos that is my brain. A friend that had listened to the music said it was good but, what’s the story? So, I asked myself, what would be the drama at a turnstile? Losing my strip of tickets without cash in my pocket and therefore missed the train to an important destination. Then perhaps an act of kindness was in order, and the story was born. It seems that once I know the story, the telling comes easy. The words flowed out.