Inside Out



I looked outside from within and saw,
The colors of a chilled November fall,
But within the color of the wall the same,
And falling down the scale of light it came,

The feeling of some long remembered afternoon,
Spent winding through emotions of a shadowed room,
Couched in same colors showing through the glass,
I wonder if the colors ever really last,

Or if they only come and go as feelings seem,
The reds so rich which dance against the green,
And golden hues of slowly dying leaves,
Which cloak the towering oaks that stand serene,

And high upon the boughs of Eastern pine,
The amber hues of poison oak do wind,
Like vines which choke the heart unseen,
Yet somehow manage still to flash their sheen,

Beneath the blue-gray turn in evening sky,
The colors of the outward turn inside,
And inside then, as inside often wants to be,
Remains inside as colors I slowly cease to see.

About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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