Monochromatic so it seems,

your face as it beholds the cake.

And that same tired song,

those candles burning down.

I watched them as they sucked the air around you,

making themselves to imitate the life they signify.

I hear your breath, a little shorter,

competing with the hasty blaze.

Then rises the smoke, the whiff of paraffin,

the gray wrinkled wraith as it rises to paradise.

You pretend to smile, I hear you laugh.

Your eyes betray you. Monochromatic so it seems.

There was a day you dreamed in color,

you wrote sonnets as you played.

You climbed trees as you tore your new blue jeans,

you did not care for their vain display.

You searched for clovers and made fun of your dog,

and you still believed in God.

Everyone claps for your accomplishment,

another year you have acquired.

The cake is cut, and your wrinkled hands do the ritual.

The icing is white, with blue and green around. I eat my peace.

Monochromatic so it seems.