Poetry

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Strange how a poem can come about,something from
the past may ring,like growing pains it soon displays,a memory lasts its never gone,for some it
could be a colour wrong,some colours do not always
blend,the person's make up dont recommend,they
claim with their own aura,and luck for them is that never to-morrow,might bring some sadness,and
sorrow,colours black or grey are for any day,or
whatever suits and do not dismay,the colour gold is for young or old,sky blue is true many shades
are worn for its favourite hue,brown,red and indigo
too,so many shades of green we know and beatiful
they too are it dont make a lucky day for some,
grass is green for every day,for certain person's
its a colour away,any day in any way.
Joe.

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