Upon The Causeway, still she sits,
In Melbourne’s hush where shadow knits
The woven light of afternoon
Into a monochrome cocoon.
A café chair, a frame of grace,
She lifts her eyes, a silent face
Held fast by thought, or winds unseen,
That stir the mind where none have been.
No coffee touched, no glance returns—
Only the distant skyline burns
Its outline through the softened grey
Of half-spent time and slipping day.
Her coat hangs loose, her hair undone,
The city moves, but she is one
With something past the tramline’s end,
A lost, invisible old friend.
She does not blink. The hour grows thin.
The world continues crowding in—
But on that chair she drifts apart,
A grayscale ghost with pulsing heart.
Sony A7RV
FE 50mm f1.2 GM
Check out Candid 898
