Blue skies and butterflies

Blue skies and butterflies

The heat of blood

In the cheeks

A broad stroke

Of flattery

To brighten the day

As the air lightens,

Thinner now than

The smoky smile of a Sunday

When tarred coals burned

And meat was roasted

No matter the weather.

We sat at a table

In front of the fire,

Nobody came late.

You finished your plate.

Today coffee beans are toasted,

Scrambled eggs are served

With avocado

Bacon and dressed salad

On pieces of slate,

Sitting at tiny tables

On the pavement,

As joggers run by

Barely raising a sweat.

Red faced denizens

Of the good life

Wipe pallid brows

That are soaking wet

Without need of effort

And enjoy a slice of cake

Almost as good

As mum used to make.

Strangers make friends,

A rowing couple make amends

And there is a coffee shop

Romance,

On a Sunday afternoon

Not just for lovers

But all who are there

And care

To join with the dance.

It is not even strange

Times really do change

Come what may,

Every single day.