Wistful thinking

the sunrise
brought colours
of an eternal spring;
a sense of hope.

processions of horse-chestnut trees stood
motionless along the hushed highways,
where carpets of grass held a scent, bringing
a true meaning of what green really meant.

the colour of the air was clear;
with a flavour that circulated
through my lungs with curiosity; perplexed
by such a rare texture,
but in truth, just the simplicity of natures recipe
that contained no preservatives,
causing a stir, that took my
breath away.

The taste of real fresh air;
its purity worth the weight
upon my shoulders

if you stood for a moment,
you could just about catch a hint of freshly baked linen, curing in an affectionate breeze

even strangers passed by with a smile of recognition.

The banter that exchanged between the birds;
a sound that echoed a definition of cordial notes
that shared the airwaves with the silence of the day

the roads became a playground
for squirrels collecting winter fuel,
without the risk of losing their nuts.
Foxes still tip-toed, in a gingerly way
but in a far modest fashion,
and hedgehogs crept around
red-light districts where they were not picked up dead from the kerbside.

Then, out of the blue; came grey areas;
a rush of polluted hours came i
in such a small space in time
Economical warfare broke out;
huge numbers of lives were put on the
‘At risk’ register; many lay outnumbered
in trenches

Chaos marched in crowds of loud voices
into the woods, that we will never walk out of

Maybe.

But let us not forget; for a short moment
when the wind stood still for a while;
reflecting on what could be.

But for now, the sun will set
its sights on a brighter
future.