Under the Purple

by Richard Vince

In some garish way, I see her
Wearing of purple as a
Confirmation that she is
Who I think she is.

It is my favourite colour;
I contradict my assumption
By never wearing it.

She is merely some girl I have
Seen on the bus a couple of times.
That makes her twice as significant
As those I have seen only once,
But I would do well to remember
That the difference is negligible.

Why am I thinking like this?
Perhaps it is a symptom of
Not wanting to go home to
An empty house. Thankfully,
I have grown into someone who
Knows how ridiculous he is being
In thinking these thoughts.

I wonder if she noticed me, and
Assumed, like so many before,
That my thoughts on seeing her
Were unsavoury?

I want to know who people are,
And I want to make them smile,
But I have long resigned myself
To being frustrated at the
Hands of their absurd assumptions.

Here, I have been guilty of similar,
So I shall try to atone by
Opening my mind and
Letting her fly away.


Posted on 12/05/2009
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by V. Blake on 12/06/09 at 02:04 AM

I love this whole poem, but I wanted to specifically comment on the third stanza. I couldn't decide which part of it to quote, because the whole thing is perfectly written and relatable. I'm jealous of you for having thought of it.

Posted by Jo Halliday on 12/06/09 at 03:40 AM

It melts beautifully, this poem of yours: the flow is lovely, and coming towards the close it gathers in a rhythm, a congealed blood finally heating up to course through the veins. Another very good write from you.

Posted by Alison McKenzie on 12/26/11 at 06:43 PM

Purple is my favorite color, of all time. Certain purples, not the circus varieties. I would have paid attention.

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