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Josh Jun 2018
You are infinitely colourful,
Touching the ground in two places.
Sometimes more,
Sometimes less.
I welled up when I saw you
and climbed a mountain
- I couldn't see you through the grey
but I was closer
You were with me
My brothers, the sheep,
Who knows how your colour,
Your beauty,
Touched their hearts,
if it lingers as it does in mine.
Rain and hail may erode, in time,
the rainbow at the back of my mind,
but they didn't on that day and they haven't since.

Yesterday the snow!
On the ground crunching like a good apple
Pasted on the trees like moss,
Painted upon each limb, some Bob Ross
Magic, white hill, white trees,
Pure sun, makes even the breeze glow!
Trees drop snow like the leaves
of last season, little by little,
and it falls to gently settle
in the back of my mind with you.

Warmth and colour,
the miracle of my summer,
Rest and play in the back of my mind
With the perfect winter's day,
Never to melt or fade into grey.
Josh Jun 2018
Today I walk home alone.
This is unusual.
I look at those who pass the other way.
I hear snippets of what they say.

Three girls -
"'Cos am a student, yeah, it's like, at the front of my mind, it's always, like, money"
- on a night out.

Front of your mind? It's BACK.

I wonder what's in mine.
I've been talking to God a lot.
He gives me answers.
I've
       forgotten a lot
of the French I learned at school.
I'd try harder if I had those classes again
     now.
Would you?

Your French might be perfect.

Adieu.
Josh Jun 2018
Thank you for the big hug,
it made me cry and smile.
I'm twenty one - I've been invincible for a while
and it's a shock to stop.
Josh Jun 2018
It's sad to say but
the sight of your face
reminds me of all the time I have lost.
Faces older than they were.

Shadows of houses grow -
black teeth closing across the road.
Long yellow fingers claw between.
Golden, all the lines I have crossed
without thinking twice.
My general, I conscientiously object.
Josh Jun 2018
What am I to you?

A friend
A mystery
A gargoyle
History

What are you to me?

A blackbird passing
An indulgent feast
after fasting.
A morsel at least
of something new,
Something good.
Of the many you're the few.
What's for pudding?
something about something or nothing
Josh Jun 2018
I am breathless
A tree in the city

I am tired
A desert stream runs dry

I am young
A baby bird can't yet fly
Josh Jun 2018
Your voice
so small, sweet
but low, gentle.
Generous hands
petite feet
I'd be mental
to refuse that dance
a dedication
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