My oldest daughter (14) sat down this morning and wanted to discuss some poetry. She loves books so I didn't suspect anything as she wanted to know which ones I liked and did I have a favorite.
This afternoon she confessed that she wrote them all..... last night. I am not a writer and I am her mother but I really do think these are beautiful. I marvell at the joy of watching my children become who they are ment to be.
Do you have a favorite?
brown is a warm mother's touch across her newborn babys brow.
brown is a sweet fed to a crying child.
brown are the eyes that swim like two chocolate pools, so easy to drown in
brown is a releived sigh when wrong is righted,
brown is a color of earth and of warmth,
a color for young and a color for old,
brown is the feel of a warm knit glove that wraps around your hand. it squeezes gently, reasuringly, and everything seems fine for just that moment.
Purple is the taste of a ripe plum as it's sweet warm juice
runs down your chin.
it is the feel of a sheep's wool as you run your hands
down its thick sides.
it is the inexplicable grace of a ballerina as she stands proudly, a scrap of silk
sliding down her shoulders and twining around her arms
purple is courageous and comforting, it reaches out and beckons, begging to be touched.
white is the feeling of blank bliss,
it tastes like sweet vanilla sliding down your throat.
it feels like tall grass blades that whish along your calves as you run across a field at dawn.
white is a natural feeling,
a soft smile at a rainy day.
it is a simple embrace, a hug, a handshake.
white does not weigh itself down with prophetic meaning,
white is its own.
a long road stretches before me,
it curves out of sight, into infinite possibility.
who could tell wen it might end?
the asphalt could slowly crumble to dust,
or it could abruptly stop.
a turn might lead to an endless fall,
or to a beautiful jewel city.
there may be others down the road,
maybe to steer me in the right direction.
maybe to lead me down the wrong path.
perhaps someone will join me in my travels, in my search for something i know not of.
maybe i am on a search for answers,
maybe i am here to give them.
but there is only one way to find out.
i take a deep breath and step onto the road.
lyrics dance across a page,
an empty stage.
they wait quietly for the clock to tick
so they may walk
and prove themselves
to have some fun.
the lyrics flit around my ears,
toss bits of silk,
sing tiny cheers.
the lyrics press against the glass
in hope that they will always last.