Drop of Color

September 2, 2011
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Cold, forbidding fog
Settles down upon this barren wasteland
Gray, colorless
To anything that draws near

Dry, dead leaves crackle
As I crush their brittle bodies
Within the palm
Of my cold, numb hand

Shoes create echoing thuds
Against the cracked
Gritty ground
Deprived of water

But then,
As I draw the curtains of fog away,
My eye catches something
So tiny
Yet like a blinding light
Shone in my face

A smile plays on my frozen lips
As I crouch down to behold
A small drop of color to this forbidding place,
A purple flower,
That seems to let the sun shine once more

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