My mind is so full of colours
pictures to paint and poems to pen.
I watch the sun set over the Mersey
and work quickly with water-colours
streaking red and yellow for the sky
and same colours reflected in the river.
Just simple, not overworked.
The cities parks burst with spring flowers
and I must paint them before they fade
flooding bright yellow for the parchment daffodils
almost transparent in the sun.
Later in the year, vivid poppies.
some in scarlet, some in orange
flapping like butterflies in the breeze.
I walk again by the river,
gulls gliding and diving
and I rest on a bench to pen a poem.

By Mary Braithwaite