They locked it up in tinker toys,
covered it with color stripes.
They made me think it was my choice,
all glittery with shame.
Where once I found a tiger’s den,
streets of gold, a rainbow’s end
Now is dust and long-smoked ash,
a thousand tales unsung,unnamed.
    Restless wings:  beating, beating
    Soundless tales disperse:  singing, singing
    Muted colors weave a fabric in time.
    Sober thoughts mine ore of reason.
    Hope emanates, flows into form.
    Another day dawns and lingers.
    We journey on.

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