Dimmer
Donna Johnson
My blues, my golds, my laughing violets
sought the sky, hoping to be seen.
But when the rain in your eyes would clear
I was not the first to appear, nor the brightest.
I was always behind, dimmer somehow,
if I was there at all.
I could only parallel, but never touch, her rainbow. My colors have fallen now;
my blues, my golds, my laughing violets.
They lie shredded on the ground, unnoticed, Like so much confetti
After the partys over.
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