My One Bridge Looks Poem by James McLain

The sky is gray:
Will it Open up,
open it up, my one door.
It disorientates me so.
More green is added
may be for a canvas but you
with out my eye left out sky blue.

You don't need to struggle
for each color now,
but I need some 'dear'
some royal purple too.

My brush you seek to clean for me
don't wash each color out.
Each stroke is but a feint some word
I hide inside the other.

Lighten each day up, one bridge looks
like the other,
State road those false yellow flowers
Van Gogh would try to smother.
Making my each flower turn so gray.

The way true color works
is that maybe things eventually.