I Used To Paint The Water
I am standing beside the creek that is stained
with the paint I poured into it moments ago.
The water running down its course, liquid rainbows
following the flow to an invisible pot of gold.
I run down beside the creek now, nearly slipping
on dew covered grass, that shines between my toes.
Soft grass, Green grass , nearly as bright as the colours
I used to paint the water.
Running faster to keep up with the waters flow,
my bare feet became splattered with mud and
remnants of flower petals that were crushed beneath my weight.
Pinks and Purples and Blues, nearly as beautiful as the colours
I used to paint the water.
I slow to a stop when I feel a prick in the soft skin of my leg.
Kneeling over, I see a thorn and pull it with light force.
Blood trickles out and down to my ankle, I admire it.
Red, Deep Red, Bright Red, nearly as warming as the colours
I used to paint water.
Quick, I pick up speed again, feel the wind through my hair.
When I'm at my fastest speed, my eyes search the water again.
I'm looking for my liquid rainbow, I'm running to my pot of gold.
I find the colours and race to catch up, running into a stranger as I go.
He falls and I turn my face, the wind whipping in my hair.
Coming to a stop, I study him. Brown eyes, pink lips.
His brown hair in tousles on his forehead.
I turn and reach out my hand, offering some help.
When our fingers make contact, it's like a golden explosion.
It feels like sunlight radiating into my pores, I close my eyes.
Blasts of colour all around me, blues like the sky, reds like the warmth
of a hot summers day, yellows and golds, shocking my skin.
I feel awake, and when I open my eyes again he isn't just a boy.
He is something a lot more special, someone who feels important.
He is a million times more breathtaking than the colours
I used to paint the water.
with the paint I poured into it moments ago.
The water running down its course, liquid rainbows
following the flow to an invisible pot of gold.
I run down beside the creek now, nearly slipping
on dew covered grass, that shines between my toes.
Soft grass, Green grass , nearly as bright as the colours
I used to paint the water.
Running faster to keep up with the waters flow,
my bare feet became splattered with mud and
remnants of flower petals that were crushed beneath my weight.
Pinks and Purples and Blues, nearly as beautiful as the colours
I used to paint the water.
I slow to a stop when I feel a prick in the soft skin of my leg.
Kneeling over, I see a thorn and pull it with light force.
Blood trickles out and down to my ankle, I admire it.
Red, Deep Red, Bright Red, nearly as warming as the colours
I used to paint water.
Quick, I pick up speed again, feel the wind through my hair.
When I'm at my fastest speed, my eyes search the water again.
I'm looking for my liquid rainbow, I'm running to my pot of gold.
I find the colours and race to catch up, running into a stranger as I go.
He falls and I turn my face, the wind whipping in my hair.
Coming to a stop, I study him. Brown eyes, pink lips.
His brown hair in tousles on his forehead.
I turn and reach out my hand, offering some help.
When our fingers make contact, it's like a golden explosion.
It feels like sunlight radiating into my pores, I close my eyes.
Blasts of colour all around me, blues like the sky, reds like the warmth
of a hot summers day, yellows and golds, shocking my skin.
I feel awake, and when I open my eyes again he isn't just a boy.
He is something a lot more special, someone who feels important.
He is a million times more breathtaking than the colours
I used to paint the water.