Everyone Deserves A Rainbow

I am feet on ground and air-staring,


I wash and tumble and dry

before guano-flecked facade,

drenched winter water,

and sick-stain, damp.

Short of laughter - loose,

so leave me untethered,

ill of manner and dead-weathered.


Nausea paints no blue sky,

peace dusts my face with wind,

the autumn has shaken me

to my very core;

trees that cover painted rust

and dents made with the axe

on the burnished nail

of winter's door.


For now I blink to see

ochre-smudged brushes - leaves,

buildings abandoned,

a spire and a clockface,

five minutes past two.

It's a Friday and I raise my hand,

to salute some airy, empty space.

🌷 (4)


◄ Story

The Romantic ►


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