Brighton, trudging homewards, as ever uphill
Dusk just beginning to spread fingers
Draining the city's colours to monochrome
The seagulls' ceaseless chorus inevitable
My thoughts on daily things, supper, weight of shopping
I chance to look westward and upwards
In the sky a glorious work of art
Is forming as I watch, stunned still, I watch
As lozenges of gold spread on the horizon
Spread over cloud banks, dove grey dusky pink
Turner I think priceless masterpiece painting
Adored by the masses, great treasure of the nation
But here, democratic, free to view
One night only, to have not to hold
Attracts few admirers, eyes in the gutter
Heads full of clutter, the daily the worry
Stunned still, watching, I give thanks
For the chance of a glance heaven upwards
For a glimpse of the treasure, the gold in the sky
July 21st Brighton, another poem past midnight
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