When the hues of red turns purple,
that’s when you drink the wine.
When music is anything but loud,
that’s when you know it’s time.
Like prickly thorns must kiss
the tender petals goodbye.
Like little spiders must bid
their web of safety farewell.
Red to blue to yellow then white,
that’s when you wave and smile.
Loud to mellow to static then blank,
that’s your cue to go and never look back.