by Helen Losse
I wish I was little again,
when the hardest choice
was picking a crayon.
—A Facebook Group
Red fire. Purple shadow.
The orange sun. A yellow bird.
Complexity of choice becomes
a multi-colored word phrase.
Outside after snow,
trees blossom in white and pink.
Grass grows by the driveway.
As I bend to touch green blades,
the back of my hand brushes
violets, so I ask, “What color is
joy?” Silence is invisible
but closest to deep-ocean blue.
Some words like hands
must be kept to oneself.
But if I use my outside voice,
will a rainbow appear?
Bio: Helen Losse is the author of 4 collections of poetry, including her most recent, Better with Friends. She is Poetry Editor of The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature and lives in Winston-Salem, NC.
I love this poem!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, Ruth.
Wonderful poem, Helen. Congrats!
Add me to your list of admirers, Helen. Very good poem.
Thank you, Pris.
You color my world! 🙂
You know I love you and your work, Helen but I love how your voice seems to be moving into such a new area lately! So contemplative yet playful!
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Thanks, Debbie and Jessie.
Nicely done my friend.
Just got time to read the poem now. Loved it. Just loved it.
Thank you, Mark and Mithun.
Helen this is beautiful. Worthy of an award. I like your writing. Have been over here many times. I can learn from you.