The fireworks were spring and autumn
merging and dancing with shooting
stars on a pale, shivering night.
Jet black waters ran, trying to
carry the reflection with them
on their journey to the south sea.

I lost you in the air that night
as the crowds thickened and I slipped
into the present, alluring like
tinted glass and coloured ribbons.
I lived a sliver of a dream
and I confess, you weren’t in it.

A short walk and the dry taste of
winter on our tongues took me home.
Forgive me, I said with a nod.
Your bones were cold, my cheeks were damp.
If I view the world in colour,
why do I dream in black and white?