Red
As a kid, I used to toss and turn,
And bury my head in duck down pillow,
Curl my knees, up to my chest,
And think of Red.
I’d squeeze my eyelids, tight as night,
And summon my, Red bouncing light.
First on my screen, I’d spot some green,
The faintest dot, floating like an amoeba,
Beneath a scope. Then pop, pop, pop, into view,
Yellow, Cream and Blue!
I’d squelch my brain, ‘twas quite a strain,
And summon Red into my sight.
All the colours shiver,
Like smarties spin on blackest ground,
Then faintest blur of Red begins,
To delight mind’s eye and quiver.
I lock onto my bouncing Red,
Lest it leave my childish head.
Every scrap of mental will,
Contained this Red, that I forced to grow,
I made it bounce inside my head,
And in fields of black, its seeds I’d grow.
Even now when I try to sleep,
I summon Red instead of sheep!
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.
