I gaze out from my office window
The world appears to be sketched in pencil
and shaded with pastels
A hundred different blues shimmer behind the ancient rooftops:
What secrets lay hidden behind the newly painted doors?
What dreams lay broken in the postman’s soul?
The gulls are aimless
The tourists drift
Like splinters of an old ship lost on a rolling sea.
Little fish fight for air
Against the rising tide of small minds
In this tiny fishing town
Hidden and almost dormant under
Jurassic rocks
And fossilised remains of life,
When to eat and breath and to procreate
Were the only pressures
Placed on the human tongue.
Today I look from my office window
And feel the colour draining from my cheeks.
The world appears to be sketched in pencil
and shaded with pastels
A hundred different blues shimmer behind the ancient rooftops:
What secrets lay hidden behind the newly painted doors?
What dreams lay broken in the postman’s soul?
The gulls are aimless
The tourists drift
Like splinters of an old ship lost on a rolling sea.
Little fish fight for air
Against the rising tide of small minds
In this tiny fishing town
Hidden and almost dormant under
Jurassic rocks
And fossilised remains of life,
When to eat and breath and to procreate
Were the only pressures
Placed on the human tongue.
Today I look from my office window
And feel the colour draining from my cheeks.
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