Green
She's green,
The green of my favorurite tree,
The green that just says ‘life’,
The green that is impossible to find as a paint,
The green that you get when a seed first sprouts,
Just a little ball of brown with a green crown,
She's green as the waves are blue, crashing into sand and life,
Shes green as the baby bird sings,
She’s green.
Filled with life,
So precious,
You just want to hold her in your hands and keep her safe.
Green as the vines that climb up the abandoned house.
Green. So many flavours of it, but only one that fits.
‘She's green, you see,’ says the girl, ‘plants lean towards her instead of the sun.
Animals stop and listen when she's near.
Birds come near enough to touch.
Rabbits don't startle.
Fawns frolic.
She's a thing of nature.
Not meant to be kept in stone buildings., draining her life away.
She’s meant to be free.
So you see, green as nature can be.’
The man scoffs, diselieving, ‘ and how do you figure this, young lady?’
The girl only smiles and shakes her head, ‘because i painted her that way.’
‘You’re crazy,’ the man says and leaves.
Copyright © Emma Goering | Year Posted 2020
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