Black and White

A past of gold,
A future of dust,
Only takes little to fracture
The glass of the trust
Bond. May the good times be merry but the
Coal dust smears over the
Painting leave it

black.

A heart so fertile,
Grows the seeds of
Emotion, while the
roots so
Tender. May the worst times be comforted, while the ever-growing vines Around the heart bloom Orchids so

white.

Now the vines have become unruly,
The cord has
Broke. Even though the vine yearns to
Tie a bow across the
Painting,
It has
Fallen off the easel with The coal dust soiled the

hope.

The orchids have wilted,
In a failure of determined Hope. The coal dust does not let
The lungs of the petals
Breathe.
But if we hope for
One day,
Just one. Mabye the wind
Will carry the coal dust Away, and chimes the Bells of
Peace, which shall signal
The end.

Why must we leave our film in

black and white?