I found a pair
Of rose-colored glasses
Lying discarded in the street.
The lenses were broken
Shards of pink glass
Lay scattered on the side of the road.
There were roses
Dying sadly
On a bloodstained bus.
And the blue sky
Mocked the city
Through the smoke.
We have no need
For rose-colored glasses
Anymore.
Give me instead
Cut crystal
So that I may focus the fire
And see its colors.
To see the browns and pinks and tans
And hold them each
Within my eyes
So that I may know
Who we are
And who we must become.
I refuse to tint my world
Or magnify.
Give me clarity
And my mind will clear.