A Temporary Color


It was though we we were dying over.
Failing to savor the salt of past summer
Days naked within the scented lilies,
Entwined languorously under large maple,

Or trading soft, insistent kisses,
Wet and sloppy, dripping portico
Pounded by evening pour,
Shy swallows watching – cornered.

Taking up spent tomato vines;
Turning under the rotting lettuce;
The smells of death oddly sweet, yet
Both seemed so happy to finish

Their struggle in this scorched soil.
A large Hornworm, pale emerald and fat,
Rears up defiantly on the last brown vine.
He knew green was a only a temporary color.


About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s