The golden field of blowing grass.
I can remember a long, long expanse stretching out as far as the eye can see, out into the distance.
I stand atop a
tall and thin
hill, with a small
cement platform on
top. the platform
has a green
metal bench on it,
to the left of me.
The bench is made up
of green strips of
metal that are curved
to create the shape of a seat. Near where the hill
begins to even out, there is a red bush. the bush is red because
of its leaves and stems, which are really more burgundy. the bush is thorny as well,
but not in a way that would cause pain, because the thorns are large, and somewhat dull.
The sun is seeping behind the suburbs that lie past the hills, each picturesque home just as clean and crisp as the next. How is it that I can remember this exact scene with such accuracy, but have no recollection or explanation of where or when it happened?
Love how you shaped the poem with the words. Your question at the end brought to mind memories I have that are similarly frustrating.
ReplyDeleteThe structure is great, really enhancing the words of the poem itself. I also like the repetition of words, red, green, bench, etc. This creates a intriguing inner-structure that is a nice contrast to the larger one afore mentioned.
ReplyDelete