WHEN THE RAIN STOPPED.

I stayed inside for many years,
For many years I stayed,
In front of screen and plastic keys
With more than fortune made.
The world came to amended eyes
Through finger tipped abridge,
Then to my gate with invoice signed
For its assemblage.
Until one day the data ceased,
Requiring a response,
So dressing in my finest crease
I ventured out beyond.
Its colour did not match my own,
Nor that upon my canvas,
And paler still was life in tone,
Though liberally amassed.
Breeze wilted in its very clothes,
And hung on hidden rails,
As if a leak in colour’s load
Had bleached out of its sails.
So brushing off a settled rust
I turned around for home,
And fixed what cables had been crushed
Neath creeping monochrome.