colors fading
colors fading on a warm
summer day
a blanket of low lying clouds
forbidding the sun
to display its muscle
the boy asks if the sun
is a god
& I reply
maybe when it’s not raining
he nods his head
questioning the answer
[from within]
his lips moving
but his words unspoken
there’s much work to be done
I tell the boy
but since the colors are fading
we will wait in the wings
until the coast is clear
august two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
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