Purple 

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

One day, like a Venn diagram, 

Our words will overlap in paragraphs that finally make sense. 

Not in places like, "goodbye" or "good luck." 

In places like, "I love you." 

Your red and my blue will mix together to make purple.

The same purple God decided to paint into His watercolor sunsets. 

We'll be the color people think of before they open their mind to Milky Way dreams and moonbeam lullabies. 

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