There is a color you can never take away from me
It made a hole in my eyes when I was young
and now my eyes gather round its memory,
like deer around a pool,
lapping at the beauty of this rich magenta
a red that persists like the beat of my heart
Yesterday we took an unexpected trip to the city. We had a meeting to attend, regarding a bit of a stressful situation. Well, this, too, is the stuff of life. After our appointment we wandered into a used bookstore, the marvelous kind with overcrowded racks and shelves and books stacked on the floor; the rarely dusted, cleaned or organized kind, the kind owned by a person and not an organization, the dimly lit kind. I wandered through the aisles, stepping over books, trying to read titles with my 'in need of a new presciption" eyes. After a few minutes, I realized I hadn't thought about our worries even once since I walked through the door, only of poetry and how many of these little jewels I could take back home to live with me.