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Under the Purple
by Richard VinceIn 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.
10/27/2009 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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