I looked for you in shades of pink
and searched for hues of blue.
In every rising sun that set
I searched again for you.
I thought that dreams had come to naught--
reduced to tender shards…
subdued to scars of pink regret
and bruising pangs of blue.
But searching in the morning dawn
mine eye beheld this sight:
One thin line, in purple hue,
that str~et~ch~ed across the sky.
And hope dawned bright in morning light
as realization dawned:
In all my searching I forgot
that pink and blue make purple.
Dreams are not dead, though they may sleep
in hues of violet slumber;
for they awake each morn and eve
to show they’re not forgotten.