everything that was moving so rapidly
I smell things differently.
I know what’s beside me.
I dismissed your greybeard sky
and took the paint from a different source.
Your hand works wonders I can see-
my hand scratches the surface and pushes checkers-
this colour is red and that colour is black.
Your colours become a great unknown spectrum-
my guesses are pointless.
I’m blind and dull anyway.
or shadows shift and slip
at the edges of my peripheral vision.
I track your movements across my floor
although your being dances in a distant world
where music is eternal in perfect time,
I can still hear your feet shuffle
in here and in there and out there-
in here and in there and out there.
Painting your picture
in the dirt at my feet
with my toes.