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.
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