Poezja

On this early summer evening
outside the fish and chips shop I stop
caught by the serene colours in the sky
 
of the setting sun, the hues
of yellow and orange flowing into pink,
the clouds hanging white
somewhat like patterns
or connecting pieces of a puzzle
 
against the dark and light blue sky
with rays shining through
giving brilliance to them
as if falling in spotlights
or in broad bands at places
 
with the sun finally becoming
a small glowing ball
just here and there
appearing through open patches
of the now darker clouds and sky.