At home I have a colour box ,
which paints my poetry ,
some words I use a lot ,
for this never bothers me .

Some words are rich in thought my very special pens .
and some I just use a lot because I had forgotten,
every poem  ends .

But this one dos’nt it can paint with love and other different colours
unbeknown to me.
And so vast their tones and fortunes only seen through fervrant  eyes . So you with all your splendour when you’re thought prevail ,
amas you’re wondrous colours and dip into youre colour box again .