Rotherham Red.
Rotherham Red
Colours the town,
It's not a rainbow,
You understand.
( I don't want to blow
The rocks trumpet
In this respect)
Make it out to be
More than it is,
But it's not just red;
It's just not red at all,
Look, you can see
It's palette, like a box
Of water colour blocks,
From my window:
Grains of Alizarin crimson,
Deep purples,
Browns, burnt umber,
And burnt sienna,
Yellow ochre and
Peach pink, with
Sparks of cadmium
Orange even, alongside
Grey and lamp black
These walls truly glow.
The stones are full
Of contradictions.
Our Rotherham Red
Is called a soft rock!
This doesn't mean that
If you were to throw it,
It wouldn't break windows
Or crack skulls; but
It erodes just like it did
In the first place,
Millions of years ago:
Dust to dust.
The wind and rain
Carve caves,
In the old walls
The nooks and
Crannies of the town.
©Tim Brannen
