RAINSWEPT

My pensive eyes opened
Onto a washed out world
Colour bled from the canvas
The spiritless greys unfurled.
A squeaky clean panorama
Shooting spikes of pain
Not a speck of grime
For a touch humane

Sterile sanitised vistas broken
By carpets of soggy leaves
Strokes of dirty yellows
Death's warp in surviving weaves.
Within the agonised mural of pain
I have eyes only to see
The obdurate leaf hung precariously
For life, on the barren tree. 

MS