Thursday, 15 June 2017

Three Balloons

As I stood and leaned 
Upon my own small balcony
Like some lovelorn Juliet
Smoking the last of the cubans 
(A relic of happier times)
I regarded the old oil ships
Laid up in Leith Harbour
Already with the patina of rust
Showing though their painted lines.

My eye was caught by a child’s balloon
Fleeing towards the storm tossed skies.
Silver it was, the colour of purest love
It was flying from me,
Shining as it caught to the low rays
Of the evening Sun.

My eyes followed its path
Until it was lost.
But then another balloon came 
This was as red as passion
Swiftly followed by another,
Redder still, both hearts glowed
One pursuing the other,
Departing together.

Only the ships and the snow white gulls
Rust red and brightest white
Remain but neither are there for me.

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