The
Bard moved in romantic places.
He walked beside moonlit rivers, on promenades
overhung with strings of lights.
He would hear the waves breaking gently on
rounded stones, feel the cool breeze playing
against his cheek.
There were
usually buskers.
Music students, mostly.
There was a blonde girl who sang torch
songs.
And a string quartet playing Beatles tunes for
small change.
He would hear them as he walked by.
The music followed him:
Here, there and everywhere,
Colin felt that he had moved backwards, away
from a world of color.
Everything was black-and-white now.
© David Gray |
