When we brush the days clear
and colors fade to vintage,
faces smile up and chubby cheeks jiggle
the rhythm of song,
And we remember all that paints our story.
The color of JOY is classic rose
reaching through the thorns
And happy hues are bright
rainbow eyes that glimmer for the love.
Secret places become the ones
no one can take away
They hug us tight in tender ways
that weave through every thread of time.
And when the fruit is picked anew
there is a freedom born
to open wide hearts made ready
for the ever-morn.