The Colour Of Silence

The older I get, the nearer I slide
towards becoming the age
I remember my parents being
when I was unable to grasp
why they liked what they did,
beyond the circularity of habit
and the life they could afford
reinforcing repeats of itself upon them. 

I remain like my parents in the latter ways,
I live quietly within my means
I don't seek growth for it's own sake.
I was raised on second hand hope
and I know very well how to preserve it.

One point where I remain different
to how my family raised me
is in regard to television:
They watched it constantly
I can remember how to watch it,
but it no longer interests me. 

Nowadays the makers of programmes
imitate nature to attract their audience:
they put some green on the screen,
the grass of outdoors location filming
for either a history lecture, or some 'craft' 
competition where green means 'outdoors'
and 'play' for adults used to gathering
in open spaces, or cue themselves up
for more of the green baize of the snooker table.

I prefer the colour of silence.