Black and White A past of gold, A future of dust, Only takes little to fracture The glass of the trust Bond. May the good times be merry but the Coal dust smears over the Painting leave it black. A heart so fertile, Grows the seeds of Emotion, while the roots so Tender. May the worst times be comforted, while the ever-growing vines Around the heart bloom Orchids so white. Now the vines have become unruly, The cord has Broke. Even though the vine yearns to Tie a bow across the Painting, It has Fallen off the easel with The coal dust soiled the hope. The orchids have wilted, In a failure of determined Hope. The coal dust does not let The lungs of the petals Breathe. But if we hope for One day, Just one. Mabye the wind Will carry the coal dust Away, and chimes the Bells of Peace, which shall signal The end. Why must we leave our film in black and white?