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Joe Watt

A City, for the day, has been wrapped in gold


Mirk of dull steel has silently recoiled


A grey fog has parted, gifting a deadened sky


Alleviates for a palette written in light


To bask instead in its jewelled majesty 


Dawn til’ dusk escape from iron-clad reality


In a brief triumph of root against foundation


A scorching blanket and a pre-emptive celebration


At last find their moment burst in flames

A City, once bathing indigo


Moonlights as an Eden clothed inferno


When sunlit, regular bleaches away, 


Glossed over in favour of apricot smothered basking,


A population flirting with melted bronze


For there is nothing more promising


Than a street side painted glare


Seeping to each sun-kissed crease where

Afterglow bleeds into mornings after


Mornings after become days before


And days before become months


Spent soaking


Marinating in simple relapse


An amber retox


Waiting for a navy collapse

Where bodies cocoon tending to a dizzied mind


And skins peel to reveal a cobalt frail spirit


Promised to one day walk in fields of Gold


Readying for the long sleep


Descent into spiralling cerulean


Until the cycle grinds to a rousing bloom

Her scarf rages in the pink ooze


Defying a fleeting levity sprung in fleeting rouge


Winter blues rejected for summer golds.


The ground is baking,


The sky is bleeding,


Come out and play.

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