Sonnet 4: Now in Color

See, stake, and strike the brisk song of static,

before faces config’re within the sea

of burnt snows. Listen to its wistful plea,

of past echos, flakes return chromatic.

Hear the haste in tunes of trumpets before

the titular cast begins the sought show

of old love. Bridge memories long ago

of belov’d drives back from the corner store.

Dream the glaring lights, the streets, the town. Hark 

purrs of cars on crumpling leaves, the soft voice

of your mom, the music of your lost toys.

Of past hopes for calm, find them from the dark.

Why can’t you revisit what once was dear?

Why can’t you escape from what now brings tears?