I can feel the sun calling me.
Here from my deck.
‘Come, let us play catch.’
Though my blindfolds are not pixels, contrast and such.
White on white is my disposition…
And, that is a colorblind far worse than being…
A poet without a pen.
A photo without charm.
An artist without a doubter’s den.
Is to languish, lavishly, an unimaginative pen.