Two Coats
Home, in a closet somewhere, I have two coats. One is yellow, the other gray.
Even if I wore the yellow, would I be warm? Perhaps others would prefer to see that color on me. It is so underappreciated, after all.
Lo, but I am so used to the gray! I dislike wearing it, but its warm lining ushers me in, its routineness offers me stability. In this, I blend into the background. I slip silently under the radar.
Perhaps, though, some will notice how often I switch from gray to yellow, and back. Often, what seems like only a single degree difference will make the coat I’m wearing seem dull.
Most of the time, I long to don the bright color of yellow. But then again, I find it so difficult to pull on, so difficult to keep from slipping off. And perhaps the color is a bit too bright too match my demeanor?
Every day, I wonder which. Some days, I wear yellow without worrying about the weather. Most days, I wear gray underneath, simply by habit.
Is it better to have worn a coat, only to have to take it off, or to never have worn it at all? Honestly, I’m not sure myself.
Maybe what makes up a poem is in the letters, not the words.
Alone.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
Two Coats
Home, in a closet somewhere, I have two coats. One is yellow, the other gray.
Even if I wore the yellow, would I be warm? Perhaps others would prefer to see that color on me. It is so underappreciated, after all.
Lo, but I am so used to the gray! I dislike wearing it, but its warm lining ushers me in, its routineness offers me stability. In this, I blend into the background. I slip silently under the radar.
Perhaps, though, some will notice how often I switch from gray to yellow, and back. Often, what seems like only a single degree difference will make the coat I’m wearing seem dull.
Most of the time, I long to don the bright color of yellow. But then again, I find it so difficult to pull on, so difficult to keep from slipping off. And perhaps the color is a bit too bright too match my demeanor?
Every day, I wonder which. Some days, I wear yellow without worrying about the weather. Most days, I wear gray underneath, simply by habit.
Is it better to have worn a coat, only to have to take it off, or to never have worn it at all? Honestly, I’m not sure myself.
Maybe what makes up a poem is in the letters, not the words.
Alone.