Morning comes;
an indigo body,
a crimson message,
then it fades
to ordinary shades.

I wish I could see myself
in those shades all the time;
not be human, not be too
ordinary. Ordinary
means the dream is ended

and I want
to continue all day until
I turn improbable colors.
It would mean so much
to everyone who saw me

to know that I faded
as they had. To fade
as we all do past the point
of caring; to fade to a drab garden
and wash out to washed out colors.

But I did adore the crimson
and I did adore most of all the indigo
that rendered me damn near invisible
to those not willing to see past the bulk
of my shade. To peer into me

and see, really see
the center weight and heft I carried.
I did not know it until it was gone
and I was left strapped to a memory,
struggling to break free.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T