Oh yellow child basking in my winter warmth I spare you my coarse unhappiness I'm all smiles, all laughter, all joy Never meaning anything beyond the passage of time Take my hand, we shall walk for now The afternoon is dying around us My yellow child of joy I steal your kisses and save them in envelopes My bookshelf smells of golden love now Every other novel inside clasps your sweet nothings. I feign reading the letters and dissolve into daydreaming Of you, my yellow boy We're not children But oh, we are There's nothing more innocent than my hand clumped in yours We're running now, leaving houses and streetlights behind We'll run away some day I'll turn red in a distant shame Our twilight beauty will melt everyone's hearts into water At last, nothing else shall matter.
My childhood was inside books- Fairy tales and detective stories; Tonight when the city dies another death I clutch at my laptop I look up those books But I can’t go back to my grandmother’s old apartment and get them
I can’t go back to When I was not more than three feet high When I felt pretty And the green grass called me
It doesn’t, anymore How strange it is that the grass loses voice And I lose mine
I was nine but my little palm Could hold a world of confidence I trapped it in my fist and placed it on my hips I wore my blue frock and posed And I thought the world was mine
Now I think I was stupid Now I know I was happy Now I know, it’s childhood
The grass, the sky, the trees, the roads, Hell, even the streetlights after rain They’ve all lost their voices My old books lie dead Do they miss a blue-frocked girl?
But I miss her She didn’t care about the bad days she had She was me, some day. Now, just a third person pronoun I can’t reach
I’ll allow myself some tears While wishing she were here She has a lot that she could teach.
mimimusing 