In the time of
orange, children sported with place. The cool integers, the fighting
pronouns, stood for change. Change came coloured. A tree born of new
times let loose a leaf of lettered green. Blue union excused a city,
a red union blew smoke. Tied in the tracks of varying colours, the
children seemed to settle. Warring parties explained differences,
inventing new ones in logic cycles. Some children were just hungry
and it wasn’t a story.
Later, fully
lettered in outside words, the nation sensed the city soul, pitied
nothing and moved on. That colour was read by many.
Comments