don't ask me to paint a big picture
i can't see that far from
where i sit with my feet dangling
like a child's on a tall bench
ask me about the bird that flew
by my window in greeting
or the way the morning smells
from my balcony door
ask me about the sound of her
voice and the flavor of tears
or about the way the trams clatter
across the city cobblestones
i wish sometimes that i could tell
you what everything means
or think macrocosmically in a way
that places events in order
but the future is over the next slope
and i can't tell you surely
where that road will curve and what
jungles and mountains await
but if you ask me, i will tell you
that the wind plays tag with
oceanwaves and the ice cream stand
will sell us chocolate at 2 pm
ask me for the here and now and i
will tell you how your words
paint the horizon in rainbow colors
and entice me over the slope
4 comments:
when are you going to publish a book of poems? :)
uhh, posthumously? kidding. maybe when i get enough of them to make a book? :) you think they're good enough for that?
I would buy it in a flash...that is if you didn't send me a copy. ;) It wouldn't have to be all poetry. I love your short writings...like the one about the ship in the harbor. You are a writer.
Gem, thanks!!! And you know I would send you one! I am a writer, which is why that post was written, which is why that ship sailed. :)
Post a Comment