"whiteyellow" poems
Sun crashing through the windows and spilling all over the breakfast table.
Squinted eyes looking out at the everything. Focused out there: Trees. Grass. Light. Dirt. Adventure.
Fruity pebbles drenched in whiteyellow light.
The creaky screen door and the blue steps.
Chipped paint. Splintered wood.
The smell of fresh cut grass.
The smell of dirt caked to our bodies.
The smell of heat and sweat and summer.
A Baseball glove lying half hidden in the grass.
A bike parked under the biggest evergreen tree in the world.
A skateboard under your moms beat up rusty car.
Hands digging through dirt searching for some ancient secret.
Super secret plans drawn on paper towels.
****** kneecaps and wooden playgrounds.
The sound of tires on gravel.
The sound of your laugh.
The sound of your sister crying.
The sound of bodies slapping against the water.
The creek.
Deeper, longer and more profound than any other creek on the planet.
The woods.
The endless woods and all the beautiful and terrifying things they offered us every day.
The forever extending ripple my bobber sent through the ***** water of that small pond.
My back against the blades of green.
The dipping sun.
The puffs of white in the sky and branches dancing.
Unlimited.
All encompassing.
Magic.
Pure.
Beautiful innocent ignorance.
Freedom.
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 6:03 PM UTC
Quietly I watch you sleep
early morning light
rays beaming a soft whiteyellow aura of peace around us
really only dust and dawning of reality blooming
but isn't it nice to pretend?
I want to visit oblivion again
forget
sleep
close myself off
make it all solve itself because I don't have the answers anymore
I turn
we spoon
close our eyes
reveling in that warm place of security – however false
I pretend a hammock
the sound of the sea
you rubbing my calves with a coconut smelling oil
and the quiet warm light spills through the trees
I smile and remember
Apr 25, 2012
Apr 25, 2012 at 5:28 AM UTC