I have a fetish for the colour green.
I’m not sure how, it was only
When I looked out through a window
Anticipating reddish and brown and tawny substance
That they love to call soil, and I found green.
As though a prevision, I found out why.
The subtlety intrigues me, when I realize
The water droplet sitting idly on a grass blade and
The world it portrays in the reflection, is actually false.
Where have I been all along?
The likelihood that I am false is overpowering,
I awoke only to see the greenery gone.
Is it bizarre
To imagine the brown turf go green again?
How long has it been
Since the lack of viridity has perplexed me?
The rain is yet to arrive.
Once I found a man
Lost, he lay on a bed of grass
I yearned for the extent of his insularism,
Desperation embraced me, I thought for a while.
Right then I opened my eyes
And I found them green again.
