Crayolas

She colors a picture with her worn crayons
Using cerulean for the sky
Mountain meadow for the grass
It undulates under the press of her hand
This depiction of another place
One where she is noticed
That other dwelling where the mother
She is smiling and beckons
Allows her to crawl up on her enveloping lap
And sings the praises of her creations
Then sends her to her room with cookies
And a warm glass of milk
The mountains here are burnt sienna
As the sun hits them with
A temperate warmth
The water that laps at their edge
Is caribbean green
And the fish are teal blue
This pastel scene makes her sigh
This illusion it makes her unbearably happy
To finish this work of art
Brings melancholy
For she knows that with the completion
She will again be left with this
A colorless world
Where the crayons are normal
Plain old blue, green, orange, and brown
And devoid of the complexion
Of her trusty box of
Crayolas

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2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Dennis Cardiff
    Mar 04, 2014 @ 08:57:15

    Hi Toasha, this is beautiful, it brings back memories of childhood. ~ Dennis

    Reply

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