Wrinkles of calm.

The pale colours surrounding me  

Whites, greys, blues and greens

Burnt, bleached and peeling

The sun shines down, revealing cracks and wrinkles

Such comes with age.

But the ugly isn’t noticeable, the wise is;

No more shine means for better understanding

Gentler hands aren’t always young.

I listen to the instrument, muffled but appreciable.

The colours become vivid the more I live

In this moment I’ve been given;

Although old, dirty and grey, the place where I sit

Helps me forget

Past and future.

I am here now

Nowhere else.