Migration

White and black that fades to grey inside. 
White faces, spiked with gold 
and silver rose but grey as steel. 

Grey men,
                 Outlined.
crayon marks 
                  skipping over black lines 
             of shapes hardly made 
when finishing is the only aim.

Colour is for dreaming 
and no dreams enter this space. 
Dreaming would bring pain perhaps 
so lets not entertain it.

They walk in droves alone, 
a herd of one and one and one 
                                    and so on. 
But only ever one alone. 
Wildebeest of this terrain, 
one falls, the rest march on.

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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