by Peter Elliott
Chalk and pens scratch in concert
On paper and board.
Writing of Complex numbers
Which don't really exist
But do exist.
Then at last a dawning realisation
That it's all over.
Release, stagger groping outside
Into the lightly dancing rain.
Wind stings my cheeks with smiling spray.
Electrified freshness drowsiness gone
I'm skating down pathways the wind leads me on
A spiralling current
Whirls my mind on the breeze
Joining the clouds drifting by at their ease
Water prances and dances down the drains
Along tumbling gutters silvery lanes.
Tree patterns glow painted, mysterious, bright.
Emeralds glint in the leaf-darkened night.
Tree trunks bear a deeper and meaningful shade.
While concentric rainbows on oily wet tar
Paint a beautiful message like the morning star:
'Watch out - Or you'll get run over! '