I write my poems now in black and white.

Dreams never come in color anymore.

Rainbows of gray illuminate my night

As through a prism darkly, in half light,

Each shade and shadow deeper than before –

My poems fall on the page in black and white.

Once they were filled with sun and color bright,

Word toys of beauty, youth, delight and lore –

But rainbows gray inundated my night,

Cataracts crashing, crackling with fright,

The specter that spectrum dark might not restore –

I wrote my first poems in black and white

To float me through Time’s red-eye flight

And bridge the gulf between the isle and shore.

Gray rainbows liberated me from night

Deepening my muse with subtler sight

And brave new worlds of meaning to explore.

Rainbows of gray illuminate my night.