A stranger called this morning
Dressed all in back and grey
Put every colour into a bag
And carried them away

The goldness of cornflakes
The ivory of milk
The silverness of soupspoons
The see-throughness of silk

The greenness of tennis-courts
When play had just begun
The orangeness of oranges
Glowing in the sun

The blueness of a dolphin
Nosing through the sea
The redness of a robin
Breasting in the tree

The creaminess of polar bears
Sliding on the floes
The little piggy pinkness
Of tiny, tickly toes,

The sky that smiled a rainbow
Now wears a leaden frown
Who’s sobbing in his caravan?
Wizzo the monochrome clown

A stranger called this morning
He didn’t leave his name
We live now in the shadows
Life will never be the same.