I was trying to put up one of my short stories, but in the process of trying to copy and paste it I seem to have deleted it completely. Damn and blast! So anyway, have a poem.

COLOUR

Colour's the child of light
Born with the day.
In the first shades of night
She slips away.

First go the subtle tints
Fading to grey:
Sun-speckles, water-glints,
Mica in clay.

Next as the shadows come
Purple, red, blue,
Pomegranate and plum,
Lose their rich hue.

A twilight dragonfly
May catch a gleam,
Glinting from wing or eye
Swift as a dream.

Rich-shaded iris, rose
Fading to dun
Signal the long day's close.
Night has begun.

Now with the last light gone
Beyond recall
White blossoms spill their scent
As the dews fall.

The evening primrose flowers
Gold lamps held high,
Call, through the starlit hours
Moths from their sky.

Too little too late
hurts; also when you do right
but it's not enough

tried to do some writing. no idea if it is considered art

JoB, what a delight! I love poems that play with pronunciation.
And Yastreb, that whole sequence around ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ is amazing.