(A sonnet for Seth, the Bath busker who made me cry)

Beneath the Stall Street Colonnades he sings

Of Vincent and his starry, starry night

The echo of his bright resounding strings

Infusing scintillating rain dropped light

As weary shoppers rest and take a breath

His voice falls low and sweet upon the air

By painted shades of Vincent’s starry death

Drawn forth, an ancient sorrow hard to bear

Hot tears spring and mingle with the mist

And brim and well and fall upon the ground

In blues and greys, like Vincent’s canvas kissed

By grief and madness; blesséd joyful sound

Of one man’s voice, uplifting, sweet and strong

The grave of Vincent opened, with his song

 

by Gail