warm as yellow

i stare out the window
watch the fog turn to haze
as it paints its way across the city of chaos
if you stare hard enough you can see the wings of passerbys
some of them dirty, tattered,
shrouded in the rips and tears of life
others are taped on,
stolen from someone unknowing,
a robbed soul wavering unsteadily

i lose myself in a trance of storytime tales,
there is magic there,
squint your eyes to see
we lose sight when we see things too close,
when we try to define every moment
some things should be left to mystery

i want to write secret notes to strangers,
tell them they are the beauty in the grey
the delicate balance between breath and beyond our hollow words
stand at the start of an ordinary day and dance
wear striped tights and bells,
paint my face, my hair,
my reckoning
be a part of the wild side of things,
the opposite turn of a page
a magazine read backwards,
upside down
arms raised high and eyes closed,
screaming,
while i tumble down the edge of the world

you are not a failure to the plans you drew up
they were yours to create,
and destroy,
and rewrite
the dreams are worth more than the actual outcome of a single day
more happens on the flipside of nine to five,
and you know it
yes, you know it

tie that ribbon tight around your box of wisdom,
strike a match,
burn the headlines
light a candle and sew it back on
you can steal back what you think you lost,
or we can make a new set
take an oak branch,
a sycamore,
sew in ginger and glitter and kindergarten glue
leaves and flowers that your children drag home at the end of a walk

stop reaching for what is simple and convenient

i will sketch you a plan for today,
and not tomorrow
open the blinds and stare off in the distance with me
i will make a yo-yo out of your past
a stuffed fish out of disappointment

see down there, the smoke is clear
you can fly