The day you leave; the light from the sun is Indian Yellow,
the sky duck egg blue, pigeons sprawl across town.
You could be allowed to say this; that it was always this way.
But I know everything became itself that day, but more so,
people bumped into strangers just to be touched,
eyes met, lingered for that extra moment,
movements became choreographed dances.
Not knowing yet if change would happen,
the young squeezed their tiny Mao books; mid daydream
and even the old’s shoulders shifted slightly.
But chants did not puncture the new sky that day
the crowds not form, as all around us
the red became redder.
Katherine Lockton currently works as editor of South Bank Poetry magazine. Her poetry has appeared in magazines such as Magma, Rising, South, and The Delinquent as well as online.
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter
Follow Well Versed on Twitter
Like Well Versed on Facebook