Brown

I know you are here. I can feel you, In the tips of my fingers when I pass through the path Broken now by soldiers of summer that once swished strong bayonet’s Fighting a cold war before resting on the icy ground For I am blind to you, I can’t see you Blighted with my fathers curse to confuse you with others But I know you are here. I can taste you, In the chestnuts that swarm in the heat of the marketplace A buzzing of warmth from a natural source A bubbling coffee to heat tired eyes Yes, I am blind But not as you think Colour blind This doesn’t mean I let you fall from my sight.