light glares my misted eyes.
Everything is soft focus
even the deluge
threatening to destroy us.
Our way of life
fades to sepia
like an ageing photo
at the bottom
of a memory box.
Darkness falls.
A broken moon rises
above the neon city.
The aura round the street lights
has the same garish beauty
as an oil-slick rainbow.
Previously published in Kalanopia.
(I had cataract surgery on my right eye a few years ago and am now on the waiting list for the same surgery on my left eye).
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