A Moment Captured

I sit outside

In Mother’s chair

Such a perfect evening

With weather so fair.

 

From her cigarette-seat

I see the floor’s littered

But upon looking up

My view is much bettered.

 

And the pigeon-tree flutters

Its finger-bones bouncing

Framed, as a picture

O’er grass that is dancing.

 

In the distance one hears

The child-magnet tinkle;

Ice cold remains

Of a warmth so fickle.

 

From my low-vantage

I spy the dreamy blue colour

Of the plane-road above me

Awash with pretty cloud cover.

 

As the phoenix-dust falls

I’m blind to its embers

Just a faint pink glow

Is cast up, to the heavens.

 

A similar sun set I captured in Paris.