Colours

 

At the time of colours, no one came here.

The sea-red sand, compacted, stained the floor

Of the yellow valley. Some way above,

Off-duty mountains in teardrops of blue

Topped hedgehog browns in bark of trees. At dusk,

Venus shone, white as glass. No one came here.

Alleged sightings of a stagecoach, a cart,

Or a bicycle, easily disproved,

Confirm this truth, with proof that does not lie.

Just as well, because, if someone did come,

What would they see? Nothing. Only colours.

◄ Bars

First sight ►

Comments

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Stephen Gospage

Tue 18th May 2021 16:56

My thanks to Martin and Stephen for their lovely comments. Thanks also to everyone who liked the poem.

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Stephen Atkinson

Tue 18th May 2021 12:03

Superb as always Stephen

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Martin Elder

Mon 17th May 2021 11:01

Beautiful Stephen. Love it

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