The pale pink blooms <br />of busy, spring avenues, <br />glow in a warm light. <br />Tables and chairs spill <br />onto wide pavements; <br />where coffee and cakes <br />hide in the shade <br />of coloured umbrellas. <br />Waiters, white and starched, <br />look under plates for tips <br />and stare downward, <br />on newly suntanned breasts. <br /> <br />The dark green leaves <br />of busier, summer avenues <br />shimmer in a searing light. <br />Tables and chairs spill <br />onto crowded pavements; <br />where cold drinks and ice cream <br />rapidly melt, beneath <br />colour-fading umbrellas. <br />Waiters, white and starched <br />look under plates for tips <br />and stare downward <br />on now nut-brown breasts. <br /> <br />Fallen leaves, <br />clutter gutters, and later <br />crystal shards of ice <br />will hang above empty avenues; <br />too white and bright. <br />Tables, chairs and umbrellas <br />will hide redundant in cellars. <br />Waiters, white and starched, <br />will amble behind closed doors, <br />still looking under plates, but <br />not bothering to stare downward... <br /> <br />on now woolen covered breasts.<br /><br />Ian Bowen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-seasonal-look/
