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.