He sat on the pavement.
He sat there that day.
He’d sat there; I really couldn’t say,
maybe a week or a month?
He was sat there yesterday,
when I rushed past,
and he’s sat there again today.
Grey against a grey pavement
Grey against my grey thoughts
Grey as my hair against rain sky.
Today as I rushed on my way,
as I passed him; he spoke.
A voice of bespoke elocution.
A sound without any confusion.
Words that hung in the air,
timeless without any diffusion.
And his sound shone in my perception,
with colours that defy any description.
He spoke and I knew him
I knew him so well.
He never again will be grey.
He never was.
It was I that was feeling that way.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-sat-there/
