I used to have a wardrobe full of black looks,
and a shelf full of dark books.
Teenage goth; what can I say,
midnight used to last all day.
There is nothing wrong with that rite,
but have you ever switched on a torch on a gloomy soupy night?
Rigid fracturing beams of white attack
spidery fissures that behave like dreams.
Soft edges battle blurred spaces…
Your eyes falter,
at the sight of contrasting places.
Since then I always put my glasses on as soon as I wake up,
then marvel at the spectrum of my drawer of socks.
It’s a rainbow that doesn’t need a cloud.
It isn’t a pot of gold,
but it will follow my footsteps,
as I grow old.