When
When crimsons are worn and winters mourn;
When time is not a clock, watch or real
And sunsets have lost their appeal -
Then I shall face my doom,
But wake me not before noon.
When you can stretch out your hand
And come with me to a nowhere land,
I will put violets in your hair.
When you can sigh with no despair,
Then I shall believe you rare.
When I stand alone and you go away
Do not dare come ask me to play.
When tomorrow is not neglected, and finally arrives
And someday is a day called now,
Then you shall see relief in mine eyes.
When all words care and mountains rise higher,
When trees can breathe and apples are truly red,
Then I shall stop yelling above your head.
When flowers fail to bloom and seven years does not mean locust,
Maybe then life shall focus.
When I can find my very own star
Without the need of looking far,
When I lose my urge to splurge and neglect
My search for a still burning torch,
What then .... if when?
... CayCay Jennings, at age 13
Posted: September 9, 2015 at 13 x .... huh, math?
Life is funny. I can't recall what I prepared for dinner last night, yet clear as can be I remember writing this in yet another new house in another new state, but my first very own bedroom. I had a spindle leg desk that I painted white. My Siamese, my Mitsu, and I sat there, and wrote this. Mitsu kept pawing my pen!
Why do I remember so clearly?
Copyright © Caycay Jennings | Year Posted 2015
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