Children played in the street

Children played in the street

As if there was no future

The sun shrugged

Shining briefly

In its struggle

To shake off the clouds

That crept over the sky

With wicked intent.

On the other side of the window

He painted a flower

The last curl

The sad ending of it

As the petals fell

The wither of the stem

The discolouration

Of dry leaves

The scatter of ash around the vase.

He saw the light

Reflected in the glass

As the sun peaked

High in the heavens

Stretching away from the grey

Which continued to roll

Determined

To dampen its fire.

The man scratched his nose

Waiting patiently

For one ray of sunlight

To colour the final petal

To fall

Hopeful

He would paint

A moment to remember.