Five stories up
in the heart of this city
where concretes surround.
Sometimes sounds are sharp,
or like waves of the ocean.
Sometimes skies are grey.
Today a watcher is captivated
by the never ending shades
of delicate hues.
Pinks.
Blues.
Oranges.
Reds.
What a spectrum!
Call it delectrum.
Majestically.
The sun sets,
And I a human dot.
Is rooted to the spot.
A Theatre
1987 ©