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 Jul 2015 Joe Dusk
Rachel Dawn
Rich, dark soil after rain
Fresh brewed coffee with just a drop of cream
They want sky blue, aquamarine,
Or deep forest green,
But all I can give is brown.

Smooth, chocolate truffles
Hot cocoa on a bitter, snowy day
A ten-year-old boy's mudslide onto home plate
A freshly washed teddy bear

The world tells me these are not beautiful.
Instead they want a polluted, grey sky,
Or littered grass.

My eyes are strong bark,
And sturdy oak.
They are ancient roots reaching into fertile soil,
Out of which sprouts life.
Brown is all I can give to you.
 Jul 2015 Joe Dusk
Rachel Dawn
Love
 Jul 2015 Joe Dusk
Rachel Dawn
The little light bulb is small and meek,
Not comparable to the bright, florescent lights
In the least.
For years it has been sitting on the cracking counter,
Unseen and unused,
Its dust goes to waste.
Its light has been refused to be seen.
It was not until one day,
When someone’s light finally burned out,
Or perhaps it was never lit,
Did that someone come across the abandoned bulb in the attic.
Its glass surface chilled his skin to the bone,
But he looked past the dirt and plugged it in.
Light bulbs can be so fragile,
And they can’t shine forever.
It just took one spark of electricity,
One touch of his hand putting it in place,
And the light bulb ignited into warm rays.
Safe and secure in its socket,
The bulb is still vulnerable,
But comforted by the heat.
Please don’t drop it or
It will break.

— The End —