To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night – Gibran

 when your words unchanged return, are heard
 when your song, echoed notes of hue, comes back to you
 when belonging becomes your word
 a melting occurs, gray absorbed by blue
 watercoloring you into the canvas of all
 becoming whole, no longer fearing the fall 

 Then all the colors of you are revealed
 poured forth onto the listening canvas
 of this moment. 

© Ali Grimshaw 2020

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