A Nod to Crayons
There's a lot you can learn
From a box of crayons;
Like life isn't made up of black and white,
But rather rainbow hues of gray
Where the dull get sharp,
Or fear getting replaced.
And all that glitters isn't gold
But rather shades of dandelion.
The substance may be cotton white,
Blowing through the wind like tumbleweed.
Or it might be the truest goldenrod,
Blooming against adversity in timberwolf crevices,
Sinking its roots into sepia soil.
May courage ring
Through my purple mountains' majesty
That I may soar through the denim sky
And be famous for just a blink.
I'll be tickled pink
Living periwinkle dreams
Until the robin's egg hatches
And I am left with just a shell.
I'll be forest green with envy
My scarlet cheeks burning,
My purple heart yearning
Until tangerine skies settle
My bittersweet dreams.
I will send my canary
Into the wild blue yonder.
Should it return from the copper sun,
I will catch salmon in the
Wild sea foam
And I will have my
Happy ever after.