Memory Stream

Blue floor, wood legs, six feet, and some wonder.

What’s time in black and white?
What’s life if black and white?
Slouching, out of tune.
These strings they’re just not right,
I ought to add some color.

Pressure presses prints, release.
Be free. Step out. Let go.
Near a door warmly hums the old player piano.

Step out, live, be free.
I am nothing but garnish.
I am long-lost keys.

Where’s time? In black and white?
Where’s life? On black and white?
Use the best of you.
When volume’s out of sight,
you may feel different colors.

Four feet slide just before
a spring springs on a green screen door.
Frames cheer watching two soles head to wonder.

Taking a new way to old memories.

Stood up from black and white.
Out there to swirl these palettes.
More of this, they can keep the gray.