Just as I had penned the day’s last thought
I heard a pleading very faint
‘Would you leave us here in the dark to rot
Your palette’s leftover color and paint?
We ran the day out stealing for your sight
Whatever stokes your passion
Colored your dreams painted them bright
Molded each of them to perfection.
But you close the door on us once your job is done
Discard us in your mind with disdain
Instead of taking us out to spread on everyone
For us to be alive in your palette once again’.