Hope
took my hand
gentle the lash of sorrow
hung so long by peg
from back of door
becoming cloak
before long, unable to discern color
this monochrome grief bird
pecking holes in resolve
walk a mile in anyone’s shoes
feel their ache dye the price
the shivering of sound
bricks cast in tears
yellow is today
the door stands open
what of it?
outside first oleander fall
petals mixed with grass
studying full sky
swollen in accumulation
as we smile unbidden
collapsing our pinned ideals
inside our skirts
as we hike them higher
to avoid water mark