Big ball of fire we call Sun.
The flower in the park that stands proud.
The walls in my room.
Red,
That runs in my body.
The anger in our eyes.
Every bride.
White,
The distant Mountains.
Cold mornings.
The cloudy sky.
I wonder if my Yellow, Red and White are your Yellow, Red and White.
May be you see differently than I,
and we see differently than them.
May be my Yellow big ball of fire is your Red big ball of fire.
That way distant mountains, cold morning and
everything in between look different to us.
I have been told that we all are different.
Perhaps we all are.
Isn't that beautiful?
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