Black and white world

Like gravel and rock 
Scars on the land
The year is
Etched and engrained
Colour drained
Leeched away
The world in
Monochrome folds
Inwardly
Unrecognisable in
twelve long months
Hardly recognising itself in
Its present form

But resolute it is and stoic
As one huge oiled
Machine it slowly burgeons forth
And cogs start to turn
And with them white
to colour
Splashed here and there
And slowly, very slowly
It turns from monochrome.



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