Sands of time bring with them all that is new:
Different filters over clear eyes of glass,
Kaleidoscopic as they change the view-
What seemed wise in rose, in amber is crass.
Rich men had hundreds, and mansions of gold
When eyes were glazed over by the first pink;
Eventually, though, that color went cold-
Hundreds became the bottom of the bank.
Once, there was no reason to toe the line,
Yet lawless red turned to compliant beige,
And compliant beige thawed to blue, in time:
Knowing, tired eyes, still fearing changed age.
In a rainbow lifespan, views often shift,
Clarity lost and found with the hues' drift.