The Thinking Sapling

It’s numbers on a screen.
The graph rises; the margin’s green.
A new silhouette and a different shade
And the old dress gathers dust and fades.

Out on the streets, everyone is in maroon.
The green was left abandoned too soon.
”Green she wears!” Oh, how outdated.
A new distraction, the masses are sated.

The outlets are lined with that shade of red.
”New! Unique!” the sign outside said.
The queue and line stretch far out the door.
The demand forecasted, so no worries, there’s more.

The TV plays an ad at noon,
which centres on a woman wearing maroon.
From cinema screens to the celebrity’s grace,
the whims of the few set the many’s pace.

The artisan looks out his window.
He wonders if anyone will come in tomorrow.
His hands return to finish a green canvas.
His door was forgotten by the fickle masses.

The buzzing and humming echo the floor.
Hands cut and sew, slowly getting sore.
Fabric mindlessly snipped and tossed.
Thousands of pieces at a low cost.

The board meets; numbers are displayed.
All went as expected; it’s a typical day.
The income statement is drafted for this quarter.
The increased value will please the shareholders.

The lady in green leaves the queue.
The maroon army marches into view.
Deep in the wardrobe where no one will see-
hangs a dress with such a beautiful green.