poems by Donald James Dolby
Thinking in Colour
My pen tonight, the ink is black
It seems, sometimes
There's no way back.

But if I write with ink of blue
I can, sometimes
See a brighter hue.

And if I write with ink of red
Perhaps, sometimes
It could be said

That if I write with ink of green
It could sometimesÉ
Well, might have been.
Notes :-
July 2002, Hazlemere