Flying Colors

In every battle There are colors that paint As the time ticks and The brush strokes Hues are seen Not by the eyes but By the heart that leaps like ghosts. Yellow says yes under the moon's romance And the green transcends The inevitable tie of tea and man Calm, fresh and life well-loved For the red comes aglow In the mother's breast And the cradle that gathers The angels--mirth and hope Captured in the bottle, preserved. Never will they pink For the orange and purple will mingle Like a chamomile orchard and apiary Where the gentle wind brings forth white The color of handshakes and doves Then the feathers caress The dreams of the young To tread the road, to meet one Who will help her loads And the blue foreborne As well as the dark For they are perched along the way There at all times night or day Even the rainbow could lure the sight For years it's chased by thousand knights It's not there yet it hid The golds of which the colors where not yet told.