Beige man

BEIGE MAN

Along the promenade they sit
In serried ranks of beige;
A bland innocuous colour, it
Is suited to their age.

Men who once were all attired
In navy, brown or black
Have in their dotage each acquired
A pale beige anorak.

Submerged in beigeness, no-one saves
The memory of their prime.
Now they can only watch the waves
And wait for feeding time.

Their wives instruct them how to dress.
Well, be that as it may
Something in them must acquiesce
Or why should they obey?

They all have beige complexions too
And somehow you can tell
The way their dead eyes follow you
Their minds are beige as well.

And 'You may mock,' they seem to say,
'Just wait and see, my friend.
The tide of beige will have its way
You'll join us in the end.'

Never! I'll dress mine to shock
In orange. purple, sage.
I shan't care if he wears a frock -
So long as it's not beige.