Green

Green

Green

Is the colour of the nasty plastic

From which they make the folder

Which they give you when they tell you

That your life is about to change

And which you clutch tightly

As you try to grasp the meaning

Of the torrent of words you’re hearing

Green

Is the colour of the booklets

The leaflets and the pamphlets

Which they hand to you one by one

To place inside your folder

To build up your collection

Of oncology information

And unwanted reference reading

Green

Is the colour of the typeface

Of the jaunty letter-font

The co-ordinated colour-coded logo

That someone once designed

To appear bright and accessible

For each new unwilling owner

Of this convenient carry-case

Green!

Of all the colours of the rainbow

The massive palette of shades and hues

Who was it that determined green

Might be the fittest cancer tint?

Some sort of positive signal?

An encouragement to carry on?

Why not healthy-tissue pink?

Or a mildly-cautious amber?

Why not deep-depression blue?

Or the blackness of deep despair?

Why not a sickening yellow?

Or the fiery red of anger?

Green?

I don’t think this is what they meant

When they asked me if I had any questions

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2017