Red
White
Black
Yellow.
In small, perfect squares
They spiral off along the wall.
Each colour shouts triumphantly
As the tiles address them all.
Red
White
Black
Yellow
The mosaic curves so intricately,
Each tile is perfectly set
Amongst the others in it’s quarter.
As if each spent a lifetime
Settling itself in the mortar.
Drawing back I see
The extension of the pattern.
Marvel at its brilliance,
But something is the matter.
The small squares drown each other out.
I see the picture I forgot,
An ugly stew,
A melting pot.