Color Scheme

July 7, 2009

The color of a goose’s
Winter plumage; like ash
Fallen from a Cuban cigar
A fragile frame bent to stay
On your crooked path
Spanning state lines and
More than a few souls
You’ve said it yourself,
You are simply grey.
Almost worse than ever
Grey is neither happy nor sad
It cannot be anything but
What it is: concrete.
You are the hue of
A frozen lake with
Green trimmings

But remember, dear,
Underneath the hardened
And icy exterior lies a dormant
Body of water, cool and fresh,
Waiting for a spring sunrise
To overwhelm your shell
And become that shining
Silver and azure
I see that time coming
When you will splash yourself
With color and invite the
Wildlife to come and stay
Perhaps the time will be
Sooner than we thought
I never had a doubt
You would surprise us
Iridescent flashes and
A smile I love to see
Grinning up at my face
From the bottom of the lake.


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