The bees are buzzing
telling me spring’s flowers
have come alive
But you aren’t.

We disagreed about white walls…now I concede.
It makes everything else the source.
so now the teal pot,
and there the red bread canister
Holds a welling feeling
of aliveness,
of a certainty of existence.
the white wall

We traded places
one vote for
and one against
how could we trade so much in a decade

You must have felt you ran out of time,
or the saturation of life bled out
so you lived in color substitute.
In rooms where subtlety could not exist
There was Purple Lilac,
next too sunny yellow
and was there also a sage green?

I should have known then
you where lost
When color no longer bothered you
inert suddenly, after putting up much todo over it for years
I told myself this change was for the best
but discordant hues ran me out of those small rooms

there was a time when I needed so much color to fill me too
and when I was saturated but more lost than ever
i’d lay submerged in a white tub,
in the only white room
in an otherwise too colorful place
and come to my senses of self
before it was too late
I should have made sure there were
still bare walls somewhere inside you.

one white wall.
one place of truth
one reflector of hope
one space to dream anew
one spring flower

-Paige Stewart