Oops. Late again and I don't even have a good excuse. I am very sorry.
I seem to be stuck in iambic pentameter and quatrains. Maybe tomorrow I'll mix it up a little.
Sometimes the world is joyfully alive
A song in scarlet, blue and leaping green.
It's then I want to run and sing and dance
And, with the breathing world around me, thrive.
Sometimes the world (though no less lovely) sings
In muted hues of purple, grey and white.
I hum a softer melody and think
It's not quite meant for truly living things.
I love both songs, each one the sweetest sigh
Of beauty, freedom, joy; in each I see
Some facet of myself. And yet the world
That's softer often draws a tear to eye.
I don't know why.
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