...
I say, it's a blending of many colors, pale and bold
not all beginnings are really green and gold
others begin with hazelwood...grayish, almost pale
freshens up, when the winds are in one's sails
things turn green with aspirations...
golden.....when ripe with expectations
going brighter, like red-yellow flames, in a live kiln,
fueled, fiery confidence...burning within.
Middle parts are the most illuminated ones
the brightest hours...of afternoon sun...
could be radiant yellow...perchance, tangerine,
shifting to burnt orange...a bronzed sky...when
perspectives change..and feisty fellows start to mellow
blaring red turns coffee brown...fading colors follow,
we don't want it, but gloom visits ...trailed by fears
all become pale, when days get doused with tears.
Endings are often called, night...or dusk
horizons could be stilled, shaded gray, or black,
darkened even more by impatience and waiting...tedium
dehydrates the body and soul....ending up consumed,
others look up to a starry sky, denim, or indigo blue,
anxious with a coming.....twilight? or gray morning?
that day, when some go to a blood red sea...seething,
where unforgiving, indifferent winds are the ones blowing
where many voices bellow...begging, but in vain.
for some, dark magically turns to a blinding sun,
when it's time for them...to cross over,
the other side beckons...waiting, is finally over.
Sally
Copyright July 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
