Changing Colours

Illustrated by Maja Kobylak.

It was a lava lamp (kind-of) that lit up, 

different colours, with bubbles in it – 

a trolley addition to please 

a bored child in a B&Q in Penzance.

It was a tacky treasure and its luminescence

was entrancing. She held it like

it might cost a gazillion pounds! though 

of course it was actually more of a checkout

afterthought. At night times her dad would 

come in and turn the lights out

but he’d stay a while (the door ajar)

and they’d watch it light up, together

I’m not sure at what age but the novelty

wore off. She’d shut her door instead –  

hear his footsteps pause, reflect and then turn 

away. She listened, often wishing he’d stay. 

Proud as preteens come she couldn’t still let 

Dad tuck her in. But she’d wait for the lamp to 

turn blue (their favourite) before closing her eyes,

remembering how they used to go ‘ahh’ 

as she drifted –

Cheap tack doesn’t last. Obviously. Batteries

run out and post-it notes (buy AA batts)

get scribbled over and lost in the hustle,

doors get slammed, shuffling feet silenced.

But now (right now) she’s staring out her bedroom

Window at three cube-shaped lights in the garden,

eye-sores to say the least. Solar-powered 

crap. ‘You don’t like them? I think they’re cool’

At the time she ignored him. She turns off her 

Bedroom light to see them better and she tries 

to channel the mind of the bored child in B&Q,

wondering if–maybe–he was doing that too 

one after another she watches the colours change. 

She waits. 

Green, 

     red,

        purple, 

                        blue. 

His feet pace far away now and the light doesn’t 

seem to mitigate the darkness of the night

but only interrupts the sleeping city