The pictures on my wall
They aren’t mine
Made in a previous life
By a man who used to exist
Pictures of places and faces
That shouldn’t mean anything
But glance by glance
They have replaced
The drab scenes of my own life
Familiar strangers stare at me
And I stare back
Jealous of the way
These black and white phantoms
Gracefully fill the room
While a colourful man like myself
Is doomed to play the second fiddle