Labyrinth

eight - yellow breaths of the trees

not too sure what this is. i don't think i'd call it a poem.

anyway, it's called yellow breaths of trees

and its cold and i'm not sure what i'm doing here yet i'm here all the same and i'm smiling and the breath of the trees is on me and in me and it's all i feel, it's all i can feel

and there is such a warm sense of clarity and clearness here

there isn’t a speckle of confusion

the floor is yellow and my eyes are yellow and the lampshades are yellow

yellow

and we say hello, yellow, and the tears form and they are falling and it’s incontrollable

the tears

they just float and they sink and it’s bad

and it isn’t yellow at all

it wasn’t ever yellow

but i'm smiling

and it’s clear

and you are not here

were you ever?

no

no

and you weren’t yellow

you were never yellow

and the trees aren’t breathing

and it’s all gone

all of it