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Crayola
May 7, 2010
The world is full of colors.
In places we haven't seen; things we don't bother.
They lay in disguise, undercover from our eyes.
Body and mind; separate but tied.
Where do our colors go when we all die?
We are born with a palette; which we are meant to fill.
Emotions running rampant, or a peaceful night still.
Life is never granted; take but what you will.
Experiences are what we've painted.
The paints; are colors still.
For the world is full of colors,
And I have a palette to fill.
© Matt D., St Peters, MI
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