This is the colour of the sky
When all the clouds are gone
And the Sun is sinking gently
Away to its night time lair
Beyond the horizon.

The rows of streetlamps ensure
That it is too light for
Any stars to be seen just yet.
They form a tunnel of ochre
Through which cars and buses
And lorries and people pass.
They make the tarmac of the road
A dull orange carpet,
Sometimes made temporarily white
By the passing of headlights.

The trees are becoming formless
As they retreat into the shadows
Of the ever more elderly day.
Their leaves that will soon be gone
Occasionally catch the orange
Of the ever present streetlamps.

The red and green of the traffic lights
Add colour to a world that waits
For the stars to punch holes
In the ever darkening sky.

The western horizon still shines golden
As windows light up, betraying
The presence of the Sun further on
In its circumnavigatory journey
On which it surveys all
That takes place on Earth.

Soon, its fellow stars will
Begin their night time vigil,
And already quietening sound
Of the world will cease until
The Sun rides in from the East
To herald once again
The dawning of a new day.

09/10/2002

Posted on 09/10/2002
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince