It was after noon and some time in the hours that preceded
there came knocking on the windows, but my sight being impeded
by the fragrance of your beauty that I saw in different colours on the
counters of the market stalls
that tumbled down from childhood and the knocking on the windows
continued on until the morning when the mountains rose in sunlight
casting shadows on the river that brushed softly on the rainbows
sitting only to remember when it rained.
© 2018, John Smallshaw.