A perfect plane, perfect shadow, a clear light
That speaks of possibilities
The buses, as stiff as blood
Form a patient line by the winter common
There is still a frozenness about
Figures are awakening from a long sleep
As I pass by Peckham's parade
Of peppers and fish, the startling green of the library
The solid geometry of the wood yard
Disillusioned by freedom I am inured
To the slow, orderly return
To a life regulated by colour and light
A place of queues, where harmony is observed
Nature is indifferent, but not this world
2 comments:
Love the intimation of the colours and activity of Peckham high street against the contrast with the landscape of Peckham Rye.
South London can be beautiful!
Thank you!
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