Tomorrow's Blossom

To see color again

when barren trees have left my mouth dry

how I thirst for scenery to resuscitate life

I am so tired of my pockets smelling like mothballs

and my stomach digesting fumes

from the waste of an unbalanced civilization

I have become weary living in the frames

of black and white photographs

camouflaged among the gravel roads

where many have trampled and rendered me invisible

inject me once again with verdurous hues

to bring life to my veins for tomorrow’s blossom

-2015 Donna J. Sanders