Evergreen

A Poem

Bested by the night,
Manner matter lost.
Color, cleft from sight;
Feature, torn and tossed.

Stumbling on the stage,
Fumbling with the curtain
And the play's program page,
Little can be certain.

Could black bloom indigo
Or white wax gold?
May day break the show,
A monochrome mold?

Whatever sheds the sheen
Hope makes evergreen.