In the light there are many true colors
And as blooms appear they become so dear
That you must save them like your first dollar,
Somehow the beauty has to be kept near.
In the light all things clearly are then seen
And seem that much more lovely, like a dream
Of technicolor clarity, just keen,
Clean, pristine as if suns heat made it gleam.
In the light friendship is a stream held
Back by the log jam of love and respect,
Yet free to flow around, in, under and weld
To hearts changed by the full sum of it.
The light shines brightest when dawn breaks new,
Flowers and friends are many, for some, few.














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