The leaves are hazy green at six o’clock
with dusty specks of orange here and there,
all unobserved while I commenced my walk;
I only noticed once I lingered where
my thoughts desired a bench to stop and write,
emotions culminated in a song.
I sat; the colors clearly in my sight
seemed pale and washed where once they seemed as strong
and bright as every memory of blue
when sunrise washed the darkness from your eyes,
a smile I thought I knew, I thought I knew
now tinged in dusty memory’s disguise.
But as I sit in reverie serene,
I can’t deny the colors that I’ve seen.