Musings by The Poet Loriet
Blue
I remember your laughter,
blue syrup dripping down
your temples, into
your ears, trickling
down your neck, chunks
of ice sliding under
your shirt collar as
minute purple crystals
clung to my inner thigh.
I won the snocone fight
and your defeated laugh,
your teasing voice...
that's what I remember.
Our laughter is all we need,
so why isn't it simply as easy
as making sure it continues?
It doesn't have to be so hard.
We go from playful laughter
to being as cold as ice.
Ice eventually melts.
Why can't we?
Lori Beal
blue syrup dripping down
your temples, into
your ears, trickling
down your neck, chunks
of ice sliding under
your shirt collar as
minute purple crystals
clung to my inner thigh.
I won the snocone fight
and your defeated laugh,
your teasing voice...
that's what I remember.
Our laughter is all we need,
so why isn't it simply as easy
as making sure it continues?
It doesn't have to be so hard.
We go from playful laughter
to being as cold as ice.
Ice eventually melts.
Why can't we?
Lori Beal
Comment On This Poem ---
Blue
Blue
