hot wind swirls down the street
and coats each verandah
with evidence of other peoples misery
the dilapidated armchair out the front
slouches in real life depression
a passerby's joy is
spirited away upon its sight
the chained mangy dog snarls
from across the road
where the dark view outshines
beautiful flowering jacarandas
purple pink and red
their flowers fall like confetti
on footpaths
that people of no relevance
shuffle, skip, swagger or reel
wild lavender and rosemary perfume
the air to cover the stench of poverty
not here, amongst penniless folk
amid crime, unemployment and pain
do God-given visions count
The bursting array of spring colours
in suburban nature don't matter
in this place so much
as if you're black or you're white
'that isn't true!'
yes it is and don't deny it.
