Umber scorched amber with a vision of sky-blue disaster, an apocalypse in red that we couldn’t escape in the white light of morning’s strongest sunburst.
Some of us tried to follow the right shade of green, but City men in black suits only worship the colour of money and no-one knows what it took to hold the verdantry together for this long.
My dream was a scarlet slash in the middle of the grey clouds, a moment that couldn’t be ignored amongst them all.
Queer, weird, & a tad peculiar. Bookish rebel. Writer, poet, (book) blogger @ dorareads.co.uk . Welsh as a tractor on the M4. Buy me a coffee @ ko-fi.com/ceearr