"gainsboro" poems
My mother asked me what was my best and favorite year.
I said 2002.
Because in 2002 I was a happy 6 year old. My father was the only man I loved and my mother was my best friend. The only stress I had was getting up early to go to school.
Money didn’t mean anything to me. Survival wasn’t important. The media was just a loud picture box. And opinions were irrelevant. Just Saturday cartoons and the world being the color baby blue.
From 2002 and so on and so forth, everything started to change. Baby blue was turning to a less charismatic gainsboro; and then a Spanish gray.
Before I knew it. It was 2006. The loud picture box was now a god. 2010 is where Mr. Washington and Mr. Lincoln were now looked as tickets for treasures. Second to last is 2014 where you'd get awarded for taking a **** and then forgotten that same week.
Now it's 2016. Far away from the baby blue. Far away from the pastel pink sunsets I use to gaze upon my second floor apartment balcony.
Tired is now a common word.
Napping is a blessing.
Stress is all too familiar.
And as everyday goes by, the farther I feel from ever having that 2002 feeling again.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
the day is short
and long
when the sun
seems to
stand still
blink and you’ll
notice a sky
painted in rose
mocha and
gainsboro
the life of a
honey bee is
lengthened by
achromatic
images
stand aside and
smile while
a ****** buzz
attracts you
to life
beyond the pale
insides
of belief lies
the outside
atmosphere
what is short
in the sky
becomes length
in life
and love
© Lewis Bosworth, 1/2017
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 7:21 PM UTC