Black and white world







Another city, another coffee shop,
just a stone’s throw from home.
Windows steaming, squawking chatter

Leaf-bare trees, pilloried, pollarded,
hem a cobbled square,
empty, but for a mob of grumpy pigeons

Street lights ooze into a sky
sapped of colour,
like ink on blotting paper

Sparse sunlight,
muffled by gloomy rainclouds,
dawdles into darkness

Headlights reflect off slick streets.
Heads bob by,
encased in knitted tea-cosies

Coats, scarves, bags, boots
in winter tones of black and grey
are all the rage

Buses queue at the kerb
to swallow and disgorge
and slide away, sated.

I meditate on friends far away,
In a technicolour land,
as my coffee gets cold…

…but time passes,
and the barren trees become blotted
with clusters of pink popcorn

Skies brighten into cornflower blue,
blemished only by soft, white clouds
and the sword-like streak of contrails

On once-bare branches
new-born leaves unfurl
and droop like lime-green bats

Bird song speckles the air,
from the first whisper of rose-pink dawn
‘til the blood-orange sun slips below the trees

Trousers walk the streets
in garish colours that require
the protection of sunglasses

Colour returns to a monochrome world

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