Lustre

The color of love must be green, you say
for it grows like a winding vine
It must be multi-colored, I say
like ripened fruit we pluck from that vine
The color of sweet wine
pressed from the grape
No, I say it’s white
for its purity shown in the afterglow
And it’s also bright gold
like the sun after a cleansing rain
A mellow yellow
And surely red
like life’s blood coursing thru our veins

© 2015

Author: Emma Beane

"My history is still one of those mysteries I struggle with every day..." - [ebeane] ... All original works Copyright Emma Beane

2 thoughts on “Lustre”

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