It’s the color of royalty, once you’ve been through the motions.
It was seen in your eyes too, notice the motions.
Taboo you know, calling things out like that again.
Like other things we call different, violet was the name given to it.
Apparently everything had a name, and it was our job to name it.
The circle never stopped between the auto correct function,
Not displaced Shakespeare or Poe’s love with a twist. Purple.
Sure, you can wear that if you’re that serious about it,
but what will the people think?
A soul wandered through the violet trees pondering the same question
when it came about the answer reflected back in the pond
it smiled and returned unto the halls. If the trees didn’t mind
breath still beckoned the call.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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