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Soap Box Poets

Black Doesn't Chase
by Russ Plummer

The laughter slowly dies,
waiting for its chance to ignite,
as the white slowly turns
into something grey --
another day is waiting
for a less familiar hue,
as the grey slowly turns
to something
blacker -- uninterupted.

Black doesn't chase.
Black doesn't change.

My love gave me a song
I kept from the day --
saved for the night
as the world slipped
into another afternoon
waiting
for something silver.

Black doesn't chase...

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