In the half light Of a veiled sunrise, Trees bow and sway With anticipation. The eastern horizon Bruised and mouldering Prepares the cloud bank - Nimbus - dark and laden. At bus shelters and train stations Young women fight to control summer skirts And young men pretend not to notice, While trying to keep their hairstyles in place. The mood is grey The threat of rain is real We retreat within ourselves - While the flowers remain bright yellow.
golden flowers shine unapologetically through my somber times
It is said; if you wear an ugly face
When the wind changes –
Your face will stay that way.
If the wind changes
While my heart is broken –
Will it stay that way too?
From the west it came
Carrying dust and sandflies.
My skin dried and grit filled my eyes.
I felt I’d never be the same.
This ill wind had blown no good.
To my despair was added discomfort.
Hopes for peace had come up short –
I let myself fall.
Westerlies are here
put the blankets out to air
the ferris wheel turns