The leaves swayed, first like a drunkard at midnight <br />on a moon swept path that seemed unstable beneath his feet <br />and then more gently as the wind abated and they, in unison, <br />slowly rocked as though a host of babies soothed to sleep <br />by the mothering arms of a softly moderated breeze. <br /> <br />Clouds barely perceptible in the general greyness <br />of rain laden sky scudded, slipped silently by <br />propelled by unseen hands that caressed them <br />into ever churning figments of imagination, <br />horses, candy floss and hills, <br />until overfilled with my thoughts they poured out their rain. <br /> <br />Splash on the tarmac each impact like a mute firework <br />exploding droplets that briefly hung in the air and returned <br />to the rivulets of water careering down the deserted street <br />and returning to secret depths through gurgling gutters <br />straining to drink from an overflowing cup of heavens birth. <br /> <br />Then it stopped as though a silent command had halted each drop <br />and shafts of sunlight streamed in arrowed ranks between the grey, <br />flashing gold and green brightly amid the branches laden with wetness <br />and sparkling silver on the birch bark that shined and clinged <br />above the gleaming grass that smelled so sweet. <br /> <br />A rainbow appeared and spoke with colours <br />starting shyly violet and ending blazon red, <br />and in between sleepy blue sliding into a restful green, <br />then awake with yellow and an orange tang announcing <br />its glorious culminating red, but it had no purple, <br />perhaps the shyness of violet took its place instead.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/purple-poem/
