Like an artist charged against his will
He throws at his canvas
Broad brushes...
of ambers, crimsons and bronze
As though the paints came to life
Aromas wrestled ...
Cinammons, cumin, cardamoms
Those ambrosial rose delights
I awaited mad swirls
As my thoughts laboured to converge

Silver. Slapped upon with fervour
A full brush
after which tender dots installed
The silver bled
A deliberate eclipse
of the Ambers, crimsons and bronze
'Darn those pigeons!'
I cried out loud ...
The artist grew
By more than an inch
He flicked ...
A speck of gold as the curtains drew
The spice market blushed
Or perhaps I did