Vision
Not twenty-twenty, hindsight’s myopic,
Vision clouded by misapprehension,
Seeing things, whatever the intention,
That are similar to a conjurer’s trick.
Political sleight of hand deceives the eye,
Bouquets of promises plucked from thin air,
Only for each of them to disappear
In a moment. And today the same sly
Misdirection is still there to be seen;
How it fascinates, bamboozling all who
Suspend their disbelief and continue
Mesmerised by blue, red, yellow or green,
Dressing up blatant legerdemain
To dazzle the spectators once again.
D. A.