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May 2015
If she didn't color her hair,
what color would it be,
I ask,
making early morning holiday
bed talk

Gray, she replies

disputation, I say,
for I see yet much
brune underneath,
naryΒ a single hairy grayling

smiling with affection,
she salutates:

appearances of a changeling,
I am or always be,

like one of your new poems,
using old words for new colors,
my rainbow always ends,

decorating our bed
Left Foot Poet
Written by
Left Foot Poet
         Marsha Singh, Stephen E Yocum, Jen, ---, Zaira and 35 others
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