Colour Fill

I sit, and watch.
People come and go,
slipping through me
in a haze
a phase
of endless days,
blurring together.


I sit, still and silent,
letting the storm of
days wash my thoughts
away,
so I stay.


I live, barely,
I breathe.


I sit, disconnected from 
the blurred world
around me.
Wondering...
Do they notice me here?


Colours blur together
like a long forgotten paints
on a slanted easel,
dripping through each other,
until they are nothing
but a meaningless melange
slipping down, down, down,
like rain,
gathering in the gutter,
touched by new drops,
swirling into new pictures
that mean nothing,
but change persistently,
none-the-less. 

Full Circle

Finally, the world breathes,
slows down, 
takes a moment to let the
buds of flowers yet to come
tentatively test the air.


The unassuming white clouds
drift listlessly by.


The new flowers watch 
as the sun takes over the sky,
blinding the world with her
hot, white heat.


The water offers scarce relief
from the unrelenting heat.
The glorious hotness 
causes the leave


to shrivel, lose their green
glow, and fall to the ground,
quilting the earth,
protecting it from the first
white flake fluttering from
the tumultuous grey sky. 


The street in the lamplight
is postcard perfect,
and magic sings from every
dazzling light, 
even as the cold increases.
biting hands and faces as
fireworks stain the sky.


The cold drags on eternally,
the drifts closing in on the sidewalk.


Slowly, people and birds
begin to sing again,
welcoming the rain that
feeds the seeds that have 
been without its life-sustaining
succulence for months.


The rain stops.
Finally, the world breathes,
slows down,
takes a moment to let the 
buds of flowers yet to come
tentatively test the air.