Crayons (a poem)

“Use the whole box of crayons,” he said.

So I spilled the box

and began to paint my life

Orange: cheerful days that glow

Green: for fragile things that grow

Silver: hard work, dollars earned

Blue: for love that’s not returned

Purple’s passion paves the road

Yellow’s laughter shares the load

Bright red flames for bridges burned

Blue is love that’s not returned.

Gray the silence lasts so long

White the empty, sterile song

Black the endings, lessons learned

Blue, the love that’s not returned.

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