Pink Hydrangeas Poem by C Richard Miles

Pale pink hydrangeas cheered up drain-grey city streets
This morning as I, tired, trudged grudgingly to work,
A blob of brightness, that a laughing abstract artist
Daubed on his pallid canvas to provoke some puzzlement
Amongst the casual weekend-wasting gallery goers
But, like the impish impressionist’s intent to catch the eye
And impel the absent-minded passerby to pause,
Those garish bracts bewitched my once-distracted gaze
To glimpse the other pinks that hid, apologetically,
Beside the drab-stone, slab-stone, flagstone pavement
And, as shy roses, wilful willow-herb and brazen buddleia
Emerged to lilt their pastel-petalled counterpoint
Beneath the humdrum drumbeat of a London morning,
My tiresome trudge to work became a waltz
Amongst the hidden floral harmonies of urban life.