This poem was offered as a bonus during a recent online sale that included my book, The Rules of a Setting Sun. The winner was allowed to choose any subject or theme to have a poem written on, and the theme selected was “Transience”.

It did not go quickly, no flash of light was seen
we did not know of our loss, for a while at least,
we lived in world of red, blue and green
but that time is passing, and another begins.

I dreamt last night, of a colour called blue,
the light was vivid, and real and clean,
I saw it on flowers, and animals too
but then I awoke. A tear from my eye

the last reminder of what once had been.
There is still a flickering, a gleaming of hope,
in midst the black, white and all in between,
colour is leaving, but a remnant remains.

I walk on my path, wearing my brightest clothes
of an off colour white, hints of yellow whispers
remain in the fabric. I don’t believe anyone knows
where colour has gone, or why it abandoned us

just as we began to see clearly. Did it just tire
of our inconsiderate abuse of its art? Or did
it just tire of us. Some hope to see colours return,
but I wish more to see that which would replace it.