Home
.
A man sits in a room
legs folded head down
a pen rolling around
in front he grabs
draws the words
of multiple colors
the colors change
with what the words offer
the ceiling, walls, and floor white
empty besides the man and his colors
some green here some red there
orange splat and yellow sprays
purple spills, indigo is in the air
he continues for days and days
until the white is gone
his legs arms and body strong
to the imagination this feat belongs
there is no where left for color
so then he sketched the door
and sat back on the floor
stared for hours at this door
afraid to escape what he creates
finally the nerve gathered
he reached for the handle
bum bum.. bum bum.. bum bum
his heart in great suspense
the knob he turned
the door swung open .gasp.
to his surprise with his lonely eyes
there were more there were more
people with colors everywhere
minds creating there own
but together the pictures had grown
into a connected life of there own
so he ran his footsteps and breath
his heart, mind and soul
left tracks of color
meshed with rest
no longer alone the man had found home
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
