Popcorn

hoping she understands

that poem was a little hasty

i don't even know if she knows

how she feels

about me

hoping she understands

why i blush every time her name is mentioned

my feet carried me through
the crowded streets of
new york city, where everyone is
constantly jostling to be noticed, for space,
for a chance in the bright white spotlight of fame.
but in new york city, everything is

If purple is the hardest color
For the eye to see
Then maybe all us purple-lovers
Are seers to the fairylands
Where dawn spirits sing
And poet bells ring
Harbingers of the night
To our awaiting ears.

A young woman sits in a coffee shop in London, England, with her back straight, her head pointed forward, and her eyes wandering into the rainbow mists of Wonderland.

"Please explain a tree,"

I ask, and before

The natural silence of pondering, 

The chirping of thought as woven melodies,

The rotation of gears churning into place,