She sang  
Those heavy days in June,
when love became an act of defiance
as she draped a million colors around her shoulders.
The song told of a utopia in her mind, in which
love was abundant, in which
love was love.
The song,
reminiscent of the French songer,
to wonder,
made me wonder about why her voice was alone,
why my wonder was caught in my chest.
So I sang,
reminiscent of the French sang,
blood,
and gave myself to every word.
I gave each syllable the flag I wore,
unto each consonant
the pride I carried.
I sang.
The people around me began to sing too,
until nothing else could be heard
except the song.