Sunshine

Written on 23 April 2013

Heat-starved Britons ride convertible cars through sunlight, and

The asphalt beneath them shines bright grey.

Tourists cast assertive shadows onto pigeon-pecked paving, and

A sharp breeze runs cold fingers through the heat.

 

Warmth and light have coaxed out clothes unworn for months, as they have brought out my bicycle that is slowly breaking.

Beside me, pimply tourists from warmer countries chit-chat normally as if there were nothing remarkable about this day.

 

When I yawn and then squint, light shimmers into my vision like papery moth's wings.

 

Meanwhile Windsor Castle makes no comment.

Sunshine makes everything a bit better, right?