Monochrome

On this cold morning
still blanketed
in the woolly folds of sleep
the glow of grey wintery light
from my window
fills me up,
like the final
soaring note
of a choir
dying
in the vaults
of a gothic cathedral


I love
this white painted room,
with it's wooden floors
rough plaster walls
and an old cross
hanging from a
fire blackened beam

a perfect contrast
to the heat
and mess
and richness
of us

the only color I see
is a tiny splash of burning red
all that's left
of yesterdays
fleeting moment of desire

but the pain has gone now
and all I in want in life
is this