The Colour Collector
A stranger called this morning
Dressed all in black and grey
Put every colour into a bag
And carried them away
The goldenness of cornflakes
The ivory of milk
The silverness of soup spoons
The see-throughness of silk
The greenness of tennis courts
When play has just begun
The orangeness of oranges
Glowing in the sun
The blueness of a dolphin
Nosing through the sea
The redness of the breast
A robin nestling in a tree
The creaminess of polar bears
Sliding on the floes
The little piggy pinkness
Of tiny, tickly toes
Now wears a leaden frown
Who’s sobbing in his caravan?
Wizzo the monochrome clown
A stranger called this morning
He didn’t leave his name
We live now in the shadows
Life will never be the same.
