Colorblind

Purple becomes

grey-Scale

that hearkens wandering eyes and searchful graces.

Roosters beckon the harbinger of death and roses;

guns and purses toyed with half-hearted ambition,

‘til stops start the jams,

spreading over a walled garden.

Where does the ant have his breathe,

When the winter stares its face,

When the splinter breaks his pace?

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