‘I believe in good’,
that was the past.
Is it time to make a change?
Do I rue the past for what it was?
Do I see in the ashes a flame?
Or is it a negative still
that shows false colours to me?
Black, blue and green
Is the world truly a better place
Than the lens lets me see?
Lick , lick the ragged fragment of sweetness
and make ashes ever more.
The dust that raised the grain of trust
will be dust and nothing more.
The autumn hues of sadness burst
and leave in place a taste
of molten gold, of coffee burnt,
of just another name.