That LOUD Colour called Maroon

Bedecked and bejeweled,

and weighed down

in a manner unseemly,

she was marooned on the dais,

assaulted by the smoke,

aggrieved by the chants,

struggling not to stumble,

slick, slip and silk

stall or fall

as she took

her first hesitant steps

into bedlam and beyond,

the challenge seemed not

the years ahead

but the minutes dragging her down,

smiles, bows and nods to all,

stretched into poses pious and primate,

she felt drawn nonetheless

to the hand she held.

About these ads