Sometimes it is good to let a poem speak for itself. This is probably true more often than I let happen. Enjoy brought to color (for JK).
excerpt from "brought to color." photo from morgueFile by bhjoco
brought to color
from the library
across red brick
with a tale of the night
past.
a quirky smile, sincere
appears
cheeks puff with a laugh
eyes look from their corners
turning the corner of the stairs
curly lashes surround
frame the moments of the climb.
he takes me up
to the studio
and i watch him
on the floor, bent over
in faded blue jeans and a t-shirt
both smeared in colors now dried.
he works around his feet
like Jackson Pollock
streaks of color i didn't know existed
my changing nature never looked at
like so many things he has shown me
a favorite orange i now notice in leaves
on the brush i bring to his cheek.
an endless laughter pervades
when i should be studying
a welcomed distraction
always
like a canceling snow woken up to
all
when all i wanted was to sleep.
©Erin Croley
from the library
across red brick
with a tale of the night
past.
a quirky smile, sincere
appears
cheeks puff with a laugh
eyes look from their corners
turning the corner of the stairs
curly lashes surround
frame the moments of the climb.
he takes me up
to the studio
and i watch him
on the floor, bent over
in faded blue jeans and a t-shirt
both smeared in colors now dried.
he works around his feet
like Jackson Pollock
streaks of color i didn't know existed
my changing nature never looked at
like so many things he has shown me
a favorite orange i now notice in leaves
on the brush i bring to his cheek.
an endless laughter pervades
when i should be studying
a welcomed distraction
always
like a canceling snow woken up to
all
when all i wanted was to sleep.
©Erin Croley
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