As I waited at the bus stop
The green of the grass
Reminded me of the green
Of our picnic in the trees
The cool, quiet of Jordan Park
The warmth of your hand's
Ever-gentle touch
The bright colors of the flowers.
They echo in my mind still
As my hands lift the books
The bright covers of colors
Copied of flowers.
I smell again the cleanness,
The freshness of the air
Feel again the breathless
Mirth of our run from sprinklers.
Rainbows in the mist;
Did they color our hearts?
A small stack of books
Maroon covers hold mysteries
Words in a foreign tongue
Are we not as these?
Undiscovered rainbows lie within us
And conversation rainbow's threads
Reveal the colors in black on white.
The green of the trees
Whispers the hope in love's unravelings.
-- 1997
YOU ARE READING
Song Of Winds
PoetryA song of winds, I'll sing for you On wings of zephyr from skies of blue, Lines of heartfelt emotion Or silly ideas in a poem. Each of these will be a part Straight to you, from my heart. If you like one part and not others, If you leave a star on i...
