Burnt Sienna
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A new box of crayons waxy points undented
Deep in my mind the fragrance is cemented
It’s wasn’t until I saw a bald cypress tree in fall
That I had any idea what burnt sienna was at all
Detours out of thick black lines once lamented
In reality my vocabulary augmented
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My world is colored by crayolas pigmented
Names partnered with hues gave me the wherewithal
To precisely describe my world big and small
Into my memory these colors are cemented.
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(A Sonnetina Quatro)
A Picture and a Poem 