We walk this path,
Without a single catch,
While the splash of black
Creeps into the sullen track;
White aglow
This morning call
A smile stuck
Like an everlasting sketch –
Colors inverted,
In this stately deck. °
Can’t seem to focus,
Can never be part of a blend.
What is happening?
Oh, my precious kin –
The hue that holds them all
And the one with the lack thereof –
Two streams melding
And everything in between –
Strike a melody
So wonderful. °
We
Hope to prevail
Hope to love,
Past the calloused hands
Our blood and sweat,
Are the same and one. °
Brunilda Writes 