Would anyone even notice
If I were gone?
If I just got up, left
And moved on?
Would anyone know
Would anyone care
If I slipped away
Into the night air

a color was a thought of painting
and poetry and literature
sadly
my son took a crayon
held it in the air  it was flesh
said right on the paper wrapper
and asked
dad, this says flesh
and I see all kinds  of color
in people,
why?
Why what?
I asked trying to narrow his
question down,
He said , it is  pink,
it don't look like my skin
or yours
and I wondered
if  I drew a man
do I have to use this to
color him with?
I answered , I don't know if
correctly,
no son,
use all the crayons
grab as many as you can
make a rainbow
man,
that would be better

at the beautiful sunrise at the stray cat
hiding beneath my van in the shade
trying to make believe she was hidden,
it brought me to mind that nothing can hide,
forever, eventually, some sun
breaks the hiding into dapples
of gold
and reflections of glitters
like diamonds
and sparkling cats eyes
trying to be
alive and
scared
of where she was
caught unawares
of the night ending

beautiful people out there and time so few
to acknowledge each and every one of them
and tomorrow  comes so urgently
without pause relentlessly
I wish to write each and every one of them
and tell them what beauty they bring
to me and how I feel
but
I have to generalize I guess
and suspect if I write this
they who  are deserving
will know
they glow
a little more
than they do
now