Smudges

Ok, so after some personal hemming and hawing, I decided to post some of the poetry I wrote the other night. I don't want it to seem like the blogs of certain "others", I'm just kinda proud of these ones.

Tulips
When I was 8
John Bradley
A boy my age
Took my hand at recess
We ran like horses
To the Garden out front
We weren't supposed to be there
We didn't talk
He bent down
He picked a tulip
It was yellow and Red
And he held it
At arm's length
Looking Down
His cheeks were like fire
the colour of fire
the colour of the tulip
I took the flower
His hand shaking
The stem was warm
damp with sweat where he had held it
I felt butterflies all around us
Invisible butterflies
And I leaned in
I kissed his cheek
Soft and Light
Like Invisible Butterflies

The Flower died
And John Bradley
The boy my age
got detention for a week
And I moved away
To a different school
Near By
Worlds Away
To an 8 year old girl
I saw tulips
All colours
All sorts
All over
And I thought of John Bradley

When I was 16
I opened the door
To get the mail
And there it was
No cellophane
No trappings
One single tulip
Yellow and Red
And a piece of paper
With the words
"I miss you
Do you remember me?"
I remember him
John Bradley
The boy my age
The fiery cheeks
A weeks detention
The love of an 8 year old girl
The purest thing in life
Love
And Tulips.

Waking Hours
So many hours
the dead of night
lying awake
staring at the ceiling
waiting
just waiting

The other ones are longer... I might post them tomorrow.