I was thinking about the blast of neon colors in a film and the New Wave Music and Marie Antoinete pastels
But in my childhood it was as if we had other hues, a small box of crayons at hand, or that the world was seen through Kodachrome film.
There were lollipop reds and purple and dungaree blues, lake and skies, lemon ice yellows, setting suns and lush summer green.
In scratched lenses, children seemed to play as if inspired by the living colors, imagining that their lives would last forever. And even as they grow, it immortalizes them.
But, like life, the colors decay and we gaze at scenes of sepia and moss, with ochre grass and reds turned brown. We must attune memory to remember more.
And using suspension of disbelief, Elders, middle-aged and children gather Like the neolithic ceremonies meant for gods, But celebrate, not the stars or stones, Rather the lives we have lived or have yet to taste.
I found the first two stanzas written on an old paper in my journal and decided to finish it.