Trying to find that color,
searching since a child,
I remember gatherings
with friends my age and teenage elders,
those we all wished to emulate,
sitting amongst ourselves,
laughs, giggles, smiles,
every aspect of the human condition,
would enhance this sensation,
our sensory being.
I could lay in the middle of a field
soft whisper of midnight breeze
look at the sky, the miles of sky
stars and occasional glints of light,
a shooting star where a wish is missed
so then in that singular moment
a self-critical adamant fear
begins to sweep through the forest
the moment gone now,
left feeling cold in a farmer’s field.
Twenty years later, or even more now,
decades of afterthought,
the what-ifs, whens, why nots, the who …
we all want to care about something,
lost as I could with every search of word,
would it matter at all,
if one day,
the words just failed to appear.
I wonder the beauty of a blue horizon,
is it a state of mind or some intricate light show.
© Thom Amundsen 10/2020