new colors new beginnings

The sky used to be blue,

But it was the blue of faeries' wings,

Of hidden, sparkling mountain springs.

The grass was green,

The green of tree sprites, 

Green of forests rife with life.

The reds, the yellows,

Of roses, of willows,

Of curtains, of pillows,

Of sunsets mellow.

The colors I painted with:

For love and laughter,

For secrets and letters,

For the stories of triumphs and disasters.

So what do I paint with now?

My palette is washed,

The rainbows I gathered are faded hues.

Though,

Perhaps all the colors I drew from the world,

I will learn to forge myself.