I believed you once; your ability
to chase away shadows clouding
my better judgment.
You were but a woman with yarn
and I thought you rope.
You would nod along as if my colors
made sense to you, but you were
green and brown and red
and could not possibly have
You were glass to my wood,
contaminated sunshine in a storm,
precisely what I hate about yellow;
you were, at best,

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Comments (4)

Like a cover of a book, you believed in her though through eyes experienced you saw through her impression of a bitter falsehood
A bird's-eye view of jaundice? (lol) As others of yours I've read-never tepid.
not a rope nor wood to depend during storm...a breakable glass... she...the reptile that change colors? ...good colorful imageries... vote ten colors
My nine-year old granddaughter read this poem with me and exclaimed, where is the rhyme? And I said the 'rhyme' is in the soul. I then told her great poems come from the heart, touch another heart and live in the soul. Then I read to her, you were glass to my wood contaminated sunshine in a storm And she said, what does that mean? I told her the poet is presenting a contrast between two worlds, the world she chrishes, the world of her dreams - wood, bright sunshine - and the world of that confronts her - glass unto wood, contaminated sunshine unto illumined light. These are the contradictions the poet wishes to convey to her readers. And she sighs and asks me, grandpa, why are there contradictions, why aren't things they way they should be? And I could not give her a straight answer. That's why we have poets, I told her, they give us words and thoughts for our souls to make us new again. As this deep poem does.