In Remembrance of Colors

Thu, 12/07/2017 - 11:10 -- m0n1

Something came back to me today

As I sat near the window and watched the sky turn grey. 

It drizzled then began to pour 

And the wound in my healing heart became an open sore. 

 

I remember my supplies being held captive by a little red basket, 

Like a cold blue body in an isolated casket. 

Flashes of the different colored beads:

Plum, navy, black- they all hinted that I had needs. 

 

There was a yellow bottle of spray

And I was never sure what it was for but I'm guessing it told my braids to stay.

My supplies were harbored in this basket

The same way a new couch lied beneath of clear sheet of plastic.

 

I saw the blue cup of water used for my hair,

But brush upon my head and water in my eyes, I've no sight to stare.

The basket and bottle are like my heart

In that products or memories are contained that they impart.

 

All of this came back to me today

As I sat near the window and watched the sky turn grey.

When the drizzle turned into a pour

Then the wound in my healing heart became an open sore.

 

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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