All in a golden afternoon,
under the skies of cloudless blue.
Purple flowers pop up across the fields,
where waves of green hold true.
Songs of old ways, red cardinals sing,
At once the blazed, orange sun.
Imagined bleak darkness, black as night,
Leeched grey, as if moon, hath won.
But silver strands, will once again reflect,
The dawn of yellow sunlight.
Where all of the colors, round the...
