Colours alone

What shall I do with your photo?

Shall I keep it by my bed?

I can no longer hold you

but your words echo in my head.

We all have read your books

and we know your history of life

there is no more adieu

only farewell and end of strife

that led you to protest your fame

for being in the right

against the horrors of might

What do you see

when you see an image of me

Do you see a thief, an echo

of words said down a pipe of time

from when first used as a saying

to stop the war on want

for equal rights to learn about

the way in which we starve

in colours all too soon

alone?

I copy you write my book

a prisoner of the world’s own time

when no one knows how to feel like the words

are of use to the one known as God

for He does not tell which is

important until we find out

we have a photo of you

and a reason to doubt

our insane reality of life on this plane.

COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS com BRUCE P SAUNDERS com BRUCE CDF MORE com PRINCE BRUCED DU FAUX 2020

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