Color Wheel of Life

Tar on the pavement, hot and gooey, under the yellow sun.

Sunflowers sway in a warm breeze, yellow leaves, so fragile.

A traffic sign, hanging on a bent square poll, a yellow warning.

Deep in the ditch, beside the road, a mangled yellow car.


She was born, so small, scratch mittens,  boots, tiny and pink.

Her first room, a lady bug, a castle, the walls covered in pink.

That first father, daughter, dance.  Mom braided her hair, with pink ribbons.

I didn’t let her see me cry when she looked so lovely, in that pink prom dress.


My cell phone, wrapped in a black rubber case, rang on a snowy night.

My daughter, was back in town, her black purse, had been empty for months.

Her boyfriend, left her, with much, mush more than a blackened tattoo.

I told her I loved her, as I wrote, “She’s back!”  and showing my wife the black letters.


The snow was thick on the road, the night air was painful, as blue and red lights danced.

“Two occupants both dead”, the officer in blue told me, and wrote a few words in red.

My daughter picked up a hitchhiker, dressed in blue,  his hidden fingers, were red.

Deep in the ditch, beside the road, a mangled yellow car.

Blue eyes cry,  into a bloodshot red.


Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert


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