As orange lays on top of green,
A man with brown ringlets scribbles on a notepad.
He wears white sock and sandals, jeans that are cut at the knee,
He shimmies.
So many colors exist on a single page
Of green,
I see brown, paired with white.
He is flying like superman, and she watches from below.
Green and grey throw balls into holes.
Four points:
“Oh!” in unison.
The man with ringlets taps his pen.
I wonder if his handwriting is round and soft, or sharp and slanted.
His paper crumples in the wind
As he flips to the next.
A blank start, a new beginning, whatever you wish to call it.
Or perhaps,
This is all just a continuation from the last.
As our colors bleed together,
Beneath the grass,
To create mud brown,
Under our toes, noes…
where the sun don’t show.
Add comment
Comments