Crayons

By Linda A. Copp

Purple trees and a big, yellow sun
chartreuse, red, and pink children,
race through fields of green and blue,
down hills of lime and morning dew.

Peach is stretched across the sky,
Vermillion streaks the mountains high, 
Stars of gold tap-dance on high,
Turquoise ants hip-hop over butterflies.

Lemon frogs are croakin' with crimson loons.
Birds are digging worms with maroon spoons.
Snowmen and flowers are shaking hands.
No seasons, to separate them in this land.

And I drew this and made it bright.
crayoned this picture in a child's delight.
How very wise, how very young,
How very like the orange sun,
That warms the earth most every day,
though it knows its colors, bright and gray,
Yet, keeps on shining just the same 
on all our different-ness and without blame. 

Colors splashing, our eyes celebrate 
the wonder, our children's crayons create.
The stars, the sun, the day, the night,
The people, the earth which drink the light.
These are their poems, the sweet dreams they see
in their favorite colors, without boundaries.
Ah! yes look at all the possibilities
in the scenes they paint so, joyously!

For color simply is but that,
The tinted glass, the mirror flat.
It's just to brighten the scenes we see,
but, is not all there is 
or was meant to be.
For what really counts is this future drawn,
By this child's young hands, on this season's morn.

By Linda A. Copp

©February 26, 1970
Revised April, 2, 2001