Night eats color,   
Flower bouquets lose their fake ornaments.   
Day falls into the leaves like sparkling fish   
And struggles, like the lowly mud,   
The shapeless dreams and trees   
Nurtured outside this shriveled, deridable despair.   
And the space that was chopped down   
Tickles the weeds there by its feet.   
Fingers stained with tar from cigarettes   
Caress the writhing darkness.   
And then the people move forward.