A Day Without Green

[ampoule]

A Day Without Green

I feel so naked without you Green.
What is that color I now see,
now that the canals are empty?
Touching it, expecting familiar bristles,
I feel instead something brittle,
Old and yellow newsprint torn in places,
and beneath that, barren, smooth.
Dropping it into the stormy waters,
I turn to forget, but cannot, and so I
dive from the cliff to save it, a small
fire to help it dry, and as I fold, I smell
it close and love it one last time, my
eyes closed tightly, no tears but sighs,
as it is folded with the finest papers,
placed in a golden box and hidden away
with care and other consolation prizes.

amp, September TwentyThird, TwoThousandSeven

[PrinceMyshkin]

Love the image of

Old and yellow newsprint torn in places,



and the sense of something deeply felt in this.

[ampoule]

and the sense of something deeply felt in this.

Yes.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[firefangled]

A Day Without Green

I feel so naked without you Green.
What is that color I now see,
now that the canals are empty?
Touching it, expecting familiar bristles,
I feel instead something brittle,
Old and yellow newsprint torn in places,
and beneath that, barren, smooth.
Dropping it into the stormy waters,
I turn to forget, but cannot, and so I
dive from the cliff to save it, a small
fire to help it dry, and as I fold, I smell
it close and love it one last time, my
eyes closed tightly, no tears but sighs,
as it is folded with the finest papers,
placed in a golden box and hidden away
with care and other consolation prizes.

amp, September TwentyThird, TwoThousandSeven

I have read this this morning over and over and over. It is so mysterious and magnificently lovely - seeming metaphors that defy being metaphors, but something you actually did. Amazing! Amazing!