The Lady Sings The Blues

The Lady of Sings. A woman opened her umbrella made of dreams, painted bluebells, buttercups tulips and rosemary Now her flowers needed sunlight and the sight of blue sky. She walked slowly eyes to the ground looked for horse manure, which is not easy to find in a time dominated by cars and motorbikes At the railway station she tripped on shoes not fit for cobbled streets; trains stood idle, she inhaled diesel fumes despite the fact that the line had been electrified years ago. Locomotive drivers on strike, sat in a café across the road drank black coffee bore an expression of steely determination, but they were worried and feared for their jobs, the line has been privatized, always bad news for workers. The lady didn't find what she was looking for, but the walk had done her flowers well; she put her umbrella in the chicken coop.