Purple powder gently falling Safely in my hands Mixing it, shaking it, pouring it Suddenly it forms bands Coming back, finding it Red between white In the light. Picking flowers when I was three Scattering them next to my mother, On a tree Cherry blossoms in my hand Gently land On the sand Of the beach Now its time to go To leave that happy scene And return back home Where I belong with my Column chromatography – – – (Written during a Science Creative Literacy Symposia – more pieces can be viewed here)