In a city of
Greys and dust
And muted blues
A young smile
Comes to me
“Take my picture”
She says
Then stands there
Happy and poised
In vivid red
In a city of
Greys and dust
And muted blues
A young smile
Comes to me
“Take my picture”
She says
Then stands there
Happy and poised
In vivid red
A yellow stripe
And smooth asphalt
Winding along
The rocky shore between
She’d seen my camera
A foreigner with a camera
“Take my picture!”
Happily, I oblige
Line her up with the street
The cyclist, passing by
Now, you can call that irony, or juxtaposition, and maybe the person who painted it there was thinking that way too.
But…