Mural

steven wynne apple
In my dreams colors pour themselves out
Onto the surface of a cold and deep pond.
With the rippling of the water
The colors mix and merge,
Mutating an ever changing mural.
Very wondrous and sometimes odd
Are the renderings-
They ramble through my mind.
And by a dream that only a dream can do,
I feel the sounds the colors produce;
Broad to thin they swirl,
Shimmery and ephemeral,
Fading as they spread,
Until all is ebbed away.

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