Millard Lowe Poet Prose Poetry

In the Yellowing of Time

The yellowing
of winter
flows out
into the yellowing
of spring;
kissing chosen roses
with its hued sunshine.

Seasons,
like chameleons,
change;
and paper yellows 
as teasing tinting time 
mellows itself.

But
truth’s color
knows no shade;
remaining 
the same
in all seasons
favoring
neither night nor 
day.

And 
is unchanged
by the yellowing
of time.

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