Colours
Wearing pink, she places a rose upon the
coffin of her former defender; so the
lines would claim. He died not for nothing, words cry,
draped in the colours.
Red and white and blue are the colours; shrouding
dead and dying soldiers of Empire, shrouding
too the things of love, which were broken, long lost
covenants buried:
Sacrificed and sold for a well of black gold.
Keep the wheels in motion and don't ask why, or
who or where your enemies really are - just
follow the colours.
YOU ARE READING
One Day the Sun: A Collection
PoetryA collection of poems entered for the Attys awards, 2012. The judges were kind enough to shortlist this work and I thank them for that recognition. Biggest thanks, however, go to you, dear reader.
