Blue-grey
I shall forever want to write of blue-grey mornings, forever running out of the same notebook, forever delighted by the same gum trees flitting by, stretching above surprising explosions of pale blue flowers.
Earlier, a boy wore music in his ears which were tiny syncopatic buzzes to the rest of the world. Somewhere in those earphones, little men with sweaty long hair head-banged over their crash hot guitars and angry drumkits.
Orange streetlights dangled upwards, mocking the lazy sunrise. The trees are ripening and soon they will shed their delicate garments to welcome the winter.
(Thank you Barnaby, you're the sweetest.)
Posted by sniffles at March 22, 2002 08:59 AM