Rainbow

I live with eyes of wonder
and a rainbow in my hand.
In my clothes of heavy gray
that, street wise, camouflage me,
I walk with my rainbow cupped
in one gentle, creased palm.
As my companions run by,
mouths wide open and fists clenched,
I keep my eyes on my hands
one careful step at a time.
Though their pressure's hard to fight
and their paths seem fast and sure,
I live with eyes of wonder
and a rainbow in my hand.

Photo by Tatielle.
Although I couldn't find the photo that was my initial inspiration, this one was beautiful and fitted the poem well.

Photo hide and seek.

Image by Sepulture



“You have the digital,
I’ll take the manual.”
Because she’s better at it, you see.
The wooden walls creak
when you’re trying to be quiet.
Stocking slippers snag
on the rough floor boards.
She can hear the drag of my jeans,
the soul of my breath,
the beat of my blood.
Finger on the trigger,
light, tight and trembling.
Blurred headlights, sweeping shadows
across the ceiling, make you jump.
Her room is quiet-dark.
The bathroom is empty,
but as you turn, you catch your reflection.
Mess of hair and shock of eyes
in a blue-grey tint.
Caught you.
And in the mirror
I see her movement,
hidden behind cupboard doors.
The scent of her perfume
as she inches, slow,
the wooden slats shiver
and I wait, unnoticed,
for the chance to take.
Flick, flash, finish.
She took the manual and
I had the digital.
She thought she was better at it, you see.

02/10