Nothing’s different day by day
The palette of life changes so slowly
By the time I look up, cerulean is gray
And gray becomes black, inky and deep.
The colors fade into one another so carefully
I am never sure of their first identity
Was this rose or salmon; perhaps it was peach?
It has now become a darkness that lies within my reach.
I will stretch out my fingers and seek new paint
No longer caged in by shaded tones.
I will pour this darkness down the drain
And paint colors to make the world a home.