Colours of Memory

The birds flap their wings but only in black and white.

Colours slowly spread, the land is joyful.

And I see them Grammy and Grampy. 

The bright yellow and the neon red just call to me.

The floral curtains. 

Staring for hours, 

with a cup of tea, a biscuit in our hands.

But that times up,

colours are black and white again.

They aren’t gone, their spirit still flourishes in them.

But the transition has begun.

The rainbow feathers and majestic beak I know.

It's them. 

The spirits dance inside the colours as they tell me

how they miss me and how they are seeing me
from up above shining my feathers brightly.

We share a quiet understanding. I feel like we share the same language.

The memories flash as the red green and golden yellow shine through.

The meaning of joy to everyone, but.

The meaning of love to me.