Colored in soft shades by my mind.
We each of us see a different story.
We each hold a moment in time.
Gone the kaleidoscope of life.
Moving hues so bright.
They burn beneath our eyes.
Gone the animation of living.
Left behind frail images of all my might have been’s..
My hastily given love only to be taken away again.
The carousel slows to a stop.
Oh that it might revolve backwards to my child’s self.
When all things were magical.