I wrote "The Sky" in Arial

With 12-point font within

The little circle we had drawn

By the fence

In poster colours red and blue

The clouds we softly dreamt

Blushed in lighter hues

In words of inky black

And in this machine

Is a faint effigy

Of the Sun

In her garments of gold

But shrouded in dark

There's a man with a lark

Waiting for a hint

Of her glow

Oh I recall the silver beams

That held my frame of mind

As they filtered through

The spaces in the leaves

They underlined the cotton puffs

In bolder strokes of grey

That descended from the hills

Into my arms

And in my resolve

Though the Sun had dissolved

Into the greying

Thunderclouds

I stayed underneath

A plain tarpaulin sheet

Waiting for a glint

Of her glow

Rearranging characters

I chanced upon a fixed array

Imaginary permanence

The ending of a day

Italicised and justified

Finality in disarray

Crumbling like a statue or

A thrown away bouquet

Left out to the elements

The moss and moth have come to play

No amount of vanity

Can save what’s on display

Can save what’s on display

Save what’s on display

Can save what’s on display

Save what’s on display