a broken braid and a beautiful bond

4.06.2012 |

three strings they fit together
in a tightly threaded braid
their colors blend with beauty
blue and black and grey

first were black and grey
bonded between their heavy hues
but then along came number three
a lovely shade of blue

so black simply volunteered
and made enough free-space
for blue to waltz right in
and take grey's hard earned place

grey was unaware
that its spot had been sublet
but black kept urging blue
that 'change has no regret'

so blue got comfortable
in the clutches of black, poor grey
but blue's time had come to leave
black demanded it to stay

but blue had fallen strangely out
and left a gap that maimed
black and grey were damaged now
and were never again the same

so blue was left by itself
no colors lurking near
so blue lay helpless, all alone
wishing it had a color near
blue remained a single string
its rarity so fine
blue stayed alone until one day
orange said, "you're mine."

orange, too, was all alone
an outcast who once was weaved
orange built up cords of strength
waiting for what it believed

so blue and orange danced the twist
beautifully bound as one
complements shining bright
new stitching had begun

blue still yearns for those strings
that beautiful dark braid
but blue felt orange's secure hold
a thread's home is the bed its made
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